Forgotten Stories
by astorianox
Summary: Draco couldn't believe it. It was like seeing a ghost, was he seeing a ghost? Everyone thought she was dead, Potter himself had confirmed it, even held a bloody funeral! Yet there she was, working behind the desk of a muggle library. Granger looked at him as if she hadn’t loathed him for 7 years, as if she'd never seen him before in her life. (characters property of JK Rowling)
1. chapter 1

Westwick Public Library was not usually such as bustling place, but today it was particularly packed full of patrons, coming and going like an ever flowing stream with arms full of books, filing one by one up to the circulation desk and relieving their tired limbs of their burden.

The librarian worked continuously scanning library cards and swiping books across the magnetic strip, while also occasionally stopping to put a new cardholder into the system. The assistant librarian was busy returning books to their proper place on the shelves and helping people to locate a particular author.

At 5:00 exactly the last of the customers shuffled out the door and the clerk flipped the sign so that it read closed to those on the outside.

"I don't believe I've ever seen it quite so busy," the librarian said, pulling handfuls of thick brown curls off her uncomfortably warm neck and piling them on top of her head, securing the mass in place with a pencil.

"Nor have I," the assistant agreed as he put away the last of the returned books, "not in the two years I've worked here." He stretched his arms over his head and turned his neck to the side, producing a loud pop. "That's that then, I'm punching out. Have a good weekend," he yawned.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," she said, returning to the circulation desk to gather her things. After draping her messenger bag across her chest and securing the lid to her thermos she used her free hand to scoop up the stack of books she had selected for herself before the beginning of her shift.

As always, she gave the room a last look over to ensure everything was as it should be and took a moment to admire the beauty which she never tired of; it was small but grand with the domed ceiling covered in paintings of god and goddesses and mythological creatures, the archways accented in gold and dark oak shelves that surrounded the room seperated by windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling with evening light pouring in highlighting the dustmotes dancing among the stillness of the room.

She almost hated to leave. Sometimes she day dreamed about staying the night, locking herself in and reading till the sun came up. With her better judgement she decided against it as always, so shutting off the lightswitches with her elbow and locking the doors behind her, she set off for home.

Her flat was 7 blocks East on Vine Boulevard. She always walked the same path, which consisted of a short cut through the park that separated the library and her flat. Normally she strolled, but this evening she was racing the menacing storm clouds looming over head that were quickly chasing away the sunlight, making the September sky prematurely dark and the air cool in stark contrast to the sweltering walk home from the previous evening when August went out with a heatwave.

She reached her stoop as the first drops fell, feeling victorious for winning the race. The wallclock read 5:31. She arrived home consistently between 5:31 and 5:39 depending on if she dawdled at the duck pond in the park. Thanks to the motivation of the storm clouds, she had made it home at her earliest possible time. The ducks may not be bothered by the rain, but she certainly was.

Immediately heating the stove, she began preparing her dinner. Pot pie, as it was Friday. Routine was a best and only friend to her, it made her feel secure. Structure was her favorite comfort.

Sitting on a stool at her counter and flipping through one of the borrowed library books, she ate her pot pie. After washing her empty dishes she moved to the sofa to continue her reading. When the clock chimed 8 she got her bathwater running, soaking and reading for a half hour, about the time her water began losing heat. Upon drying and dressing and making a cup of chamomile tea to bring to the bedroom, it was time for reading by lamplight until her eyes grew weary. Every night was exactly the same.

Closing her book for the night at precisely 9:55, there was one last thing to do before shutting her eyes. Opening the drawer on her nightstand she retrieved a torn page from a book she never owned, a fictional one which told stories of accounts of magic in the 14th century including witch burnings and a woman called Wendolin the Weird, a story that may prove interesting to her if not for the more important scrawl in the margins.

In messy script, a hurried note read "H.G. If you only knew, you would never forgive me, but it's for your own good. I hope one day I can come back for you. - H.P."

Rereading the cryptic message just as she did every night, she then folded the ancient looking parchment back up and returned it to the drawer. Pulling the cord of the lamp, she settled into darkness and closed her eyes.

She always fell asleep thinking about the message, not understanding it any more now than she did the first time she read it seven months prior. That was the first day she could remember.

She had found herself sitting in the park with no memory as to how she had come to be there, no memory of her own life, not even her own name. In her hands she was clutching a book. Aside from the clothes on her back which like her hair were completely soaked despite the lack of rain, that was all she had. No wallet, no identification, no recollection.

Frightened and confused, she asked a passing stranger to direct her to the nearest hospital. For five days doctors ran tests and could find no evidence of trauma to her head or nervous system, or any source of her amnesia. Even the neuro specialists were baffled.

For a total of two weeks she stayed in the hospital. Nobody came to claim her, and no reports of a missing person fitting her description surfaced. The staff had labled her Mystery Patient 13, as she was the thirteenth recorded case in history of the country to have unexplainable amnesia.

She had loathed her numeric identity. It wasn't until she reread the note she had found tucked inside the dustjacket of the book did she fashion herself a name. H.G. the initials read. After some consideration, she decided on Hera Gilmore, names she plucked from her book.

The doctors had deemed her stable, her cognition tested above average. She retained information exceedingly quick, perhaps because there was so much empty space to be filled in her mind. She memorized things with ease, convincing the doctors she would be capable of caring for herself and even fit to work.

There was a government grant for people in her condition to help provide for their needs while they get on their feet. It was enough to pay for a few months rent and food. So for two weeks she stayed in a group home while the paperwork was being processed, and when a flat became available, she moved.

With the help of her assigned case worker, she obtained a position at the library, which suited her exceptionally well. Her love of reading was the first thing she learned about herself. Perhaps a book being her sole possession should have tipped her off. In the six short months she had worked at the library, she had completed three shelves of books from the non fiction section.

Settling into a routine and adjusting the best she could, she had come a long way since finding herself in the park. Still, she had yet to make any real friends. Explaining ones lack of identity was tricky, and her life felt a bit lonesome despite the good company of books.

It was then she decided that after her usual Saturday brunch with her caseworker tomorrow, she would locate a pet store.

With that thought, she drifted to sleep where she would dream of fantastic creatures and foreign places and faces she could not put names to, even though when she woke not a single bit could ever be recalled, perhaps another effect of the amnesia.

She did not yet know that the first deviation from her strict routine would lead to the first person to recognize her for who she really was.


	2. chapter 2

It was almost too chilly to be eating at an outdoor cafe. Hera pulled her leg warmers up higher, as the breeze was cutting right through her tights. Her sleeves reached her knuckles as she spooned hot soup into her mouth which warmed her instantly.

Across the tiny table sat her case worker, Ms. Ellerbee, a slim woman who's hair was just starting to grey. Scratching in a leatherbound book, Ms. Ellerbee must have noticed she was being watched, maybe sensing Hera's insecurities that she was writing how patient 19734 was a lost cause, a hopeless prospect, because she looked at Hera from over her low sitting spectacles and smiled reassuringly.

"Well Miss Gilmore, if there isn't anything else you wish to discuss, we will conclude this session until next week."

Despite the casual setting, Hera never forgot that this was nothing more than a therapy session, an evaluation. However, the woman had been kind and patient, even during their more strenuous meetings, and Hera craved the interaction.

"Thank you, Ms. Ellerbee I look forward to it, and as always thank you for lunch."

They both stood at the same time, shook hands briefly, and set off in opposite directions.

Hera had looked up pet shops in the yellow pages, and found one a block and a half from where they had arranged their lunch meeting, so instead of heading towards home, she crossed the road and made a left at Honeysuckle St.

It only took minutes to reach the store, which would have been easy to miss. Squashed between two other businesses on either side was a glass pane with faded lettering that read Cosmo's Pet Planet. She pushed the swinging door in and a bell alerted her arrival.

A white haired man on one knee securing the latch on a dog's cage did not notice her right away, perhaps his hearing wasn't too sharp at his age. Hera stepped forward into his line of vision.

"Ah, good afternoon madam, are you interested in adopting a companion today? We are running a special on rabbits this week only, buy one get one, they like to sleep in pairs you know."

He grinned a nearly toothless smile at her, which she returned politely.

"I was actually thinking about a cat," she said, looking around for evidence of them.

"Ah, well, I actually do have one, but only one at the moment. I'm afraid he may not appeal to you however."

He looked a little crestfallen as if he had already lost a sale.

"He has been here for sometime," the shopkeeper added, leading her toward the back of the room where there were no cages.

"He just wondered in one day, several months ago, and never left. We don't even keep him boxed up. He just sleeps wherever he pleases. Smug little bugger. Here we go." He shifted a stack a bird feed, revealing a large mound of ginger fur.

"Wake up, fellow, let the young lady get a look at you." He prodded it gently, causing it to produce a surprised mew.

The enormous ginger cat lifted its squashed face and opened one yellow eye, looking first at the disturbance and then to Hera. Before she could reach out to pet it, he had leapt into her arms. She almost didn't catch him in time.

"Very rude, kitty, very rude. That's no way to make an impression. It's more polite to wait for an invitation," the shopkeeper corrected, reaching for the purring feline in her arms.

"That's all right," she said, holding on a little tighter, "I like him already. I beleive I'll take him."

The shopkeeper looked a little surprised.

"Take him? You will? Well I say, I was beginning to think he may be a permanent resident. Thought about making him our mascot. Well then," he said clapping his hands together "let's get the two of you fixed up."

The shopkeeper assisted her in gathering all the things she would need for basic cat care, and gave her what she thought was quite a generous bargain.

He bid her farewell, and lastly the ginger cat, who Hera believed he would rather miss. She promised herself she would bring him with her to visit when she returned for future purchases.

The cat was a bit heavy, and she was also carrying a sack of catfood and litter which added to the weight. Home was not far but she wondered if she could make it with such a handful.

For a moment she considered hailing a cab but did not know of they would allow a cat. As if sensing her dilemma, the feline jumped from her arms and stood waiting for her to lead the way.

"Clever cat. Are you excited to see your new home?"

Trusting it would not run away, she began walking, and the cat kept up directly at her side. She wondered if people thought this to be an odd sight. The sidewalk was quite busy, people were leisurely window shopping, enjoying the weekend and the last fragments of Summer before it officially turned to Autumn.

Some took notice, others did not. One child stopped his mother in her tracks to point at the cat. She gave the boy permission to pet him. He smoothed the cat's fur before leaning down and whispering in it's ear, then laughing as if they shared a joke. The cat weaved in and out of the child's legs a couple of times before returning to Hera's side. The boy turned around to wave several more times before they rounded a corner and disappeared.

"I wonder why you stayed at the shop so long, you are obviously quite personable."

The crowd thinned out as she got off the main drag, but her neck prickled uncomfortably. She could feel eyes on her. It was an unfamliar feeling, as she was so used to going unknown and unnoticed.

Turning around to look for a source, the cat stopped to look as well. Hera spotted a guy, 30 steps or so behind them. He was tall and thin, with pale blonde hair that nearly matched his fair white skin.

He appeared to startle a bit under her gaze. Hera did not want to stare, he was probably just another pedestrian, wondering why this strange lady and her cat stopped to ogle him.

However, the sight of him made her feel uneasy. She could be quite paranoid about people, so she tried to brush it off.

Hiking the paper bag up on her hip, Hera set off again with her cat in toe.

She had not quite reached her block when she turned around again. The guy was no longer there, but the feeling of being watched still lingered.

The cat reached her door before she did. Wondering how he had known the right one, she laughed as he waited patiently for her to unlock the door.

"Welcome home, clever kitty. You are going to need a name. Perhaps I should let you chose. After all, I chose my own name."

Hera walked to her bookshelf, one of the few pieces of furniture in her flat, and took down several books, laying them across the floor. "These are books based on the works of famous philosophers. They are all brilliant, as are you. Do you find any of these names suitable?"

The cat looked for a minute, pacing infront of the books, before standing upon the cover of a book on the Pythagoreum therum.

"Pythagoras? Would you answer to that?" She inquired.

He responded with a small mew that Hera took as a yes.

"Well Pythagoras, allow me to give you the grand tour."

Author's Note: I hope you are intrigued or at least enjoying the scenery as we take a ride down Memory Loss Lane. I know the trope is a bit cliche', but I promise not to force you to read it!

At this point in the story, we are much more informed than Hermione. We recognize a few familiar faces she didn't, Crookshanks and none other than darling Draco himself, much more of him to come.

Fun Fact, this fic was inspired by one my all time favorite Dramione works, "Thirteenth Night" by Nelpher. If you haven't read it, do.

Another fun fact, I chose the name Hera not just for the closeness to her own name, but because much of the symbolism of the mytholigical goddess coincides with HP symbols, example: lightning bolts and peacocks.

Words cannot express how appreciated reviews are. I beg of you, take a minute to tell me your thoughts so far.

Reminder as always, these characters belong to the literary queen, JK Rowling. I am merely playing with them.

Check out my Dramione blog on tumblr, astoriawho

Thanks for reading! Now onward!


	3. chapter 3

Hera spent Sunday incorporating her feline companion into her routine. She fed him twice a day, with a treat in between, and he sat on the top of the sofa behind her as she read. She amused herself at the idea that he was reading along with her.

Pythagoras felt familiar in a way nothing else had. She hated to leave him when it was time for work Monday morning, but missing work was not something she would do under almost any circumstances.

Assuring him she would be home for supper, Hera left Pythagoras laying in a patch of sunlit carpet and headed toward the library.

It was a bit slow as usual, considering the children were back in school during these hours.

An elderly woman checked out two books, one on quilting patterns and another on the art of belly dancing. Two men came in together and checked out recipe books featuring Italian cuisine, and a group of teenagers who acted nervous and excited at the same time came in just to sit at the reading tables. Hera cooly advised them that school skipping was not frowned upon only by teachers. They left soon after with no books.

At noon Hera opened her messenger bag and pulled out packed lunch. Since she worked alone on Mondays she ate right at the at the circulation desk in case she was needed. Fortunately there was always a lull is activity this time of day.

She always had a light lunch, something that didn't require heating or refridgerating. The night before she had packed herself a granny smith apple with some peanut butter and a bag of crisps. Her thermos was as always full of hot tea, which she refilled in the back during her breaks.

Upon taking the first bite, a creak followed by a cool draft told her the door had opened. She swallowed and put down her apple, turning to acknowledge the customer.

Walking toward the circularation desk was the same blonde man she had noticed walking home from the pet store, now looking at her as if he had seen a ghost.

Goosebumps erupted on her skin. Paranoia was whispering that he followed her. Maybe it was intuition. Either way, Hermione did not know what to make of his presence.

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" She said, trying to keep her voice level.

The man did not respond, so Hera tried again.

"Are you looking for something specific?"

He tilted his head by a degree, staring at her, then he blinked and it seemed to reinstate his composure.

"I am looking for something," the man responded in a polished voice. He looked away from her and surveyed the room. "I am looking for a book."

Strange, by the tailored, expensive looking clothes he wore, it seemed as if he would be the type who could afford to stock their own private home library and not someone who needed to borrow free literature from a public library.

Not wanting to rudely point this out, Hera went along with it.

"Well then, you have come to exactly the right place."

The man did not elaborate, he had gone back to staring at her.

"Sorry, do I know you?" Hera asked, knowing she did not but wondering if she could trick him into confessing he had tracked her all the way from the sidewalk that day.

"I don't know, do you know me?" He asked vaguely.

Deep down she wished she knew him, even more so she wished he or anyone knew her, but that flame of hope flickered feebly. In all the months passed, no one had known her yet. Like she was not even from here. Another planet perhaps.

"No, I don't believe so," she confessed, feeling vulnerable.

"Then let's get to know each other," he said, extending his hand for her to grasp. "My name is Draco, pleased to meet you."

"Hera," she said, even though it tasted foreign and wrong in her mouth.

Learning the stranger's name melted some of the tension. No longer just a mystery man, she took his hand feeling a little more relaxed.

"Hera," he repeated, "as in Zeus' wife?"

"She was far more than just someone's wife. She was the goddess of women and family, Queen of the ancient Greek Gods-"

"Known for her nasty temper and jealous rages. She is indeed fascinating," he said with a smirk, a rather charming smirk she hated to admit.

Realizing the man was still lightly grasping her hand with his long, pale fingers. She shifted her wrist, prompting him to release.

"You know a bit about mythology then?" Hera asked.

"A bit, yes. The name Draco has Greek origins as well, but the latin meaning is-"

"Dragon. Draco is a constellation in the far northern sky, listed by the 2nd century astronomer Ptolemy."

He looked quizzical for half a second, then smiled as if he were highly amused.

"Well, I'm thrilled we are both clear on the hirstory of eachother's names."

"Yes, glad that's all clear," she said, feeling beads of sweat forming on the back of her neck despite the coolness of the room. "About that book?"

"Of course" he said, "what do you reccomend?"

"I- well, I guess that depends on what you intend to use the book for. Research, entertainment. There are a few new arrivals in the Young Adult fiction section, if you are interested in that,"

"No, I can't say that I am," he grinned.

"Right, of course not. Well I can highly recommend anything off the first three shelves on the that case of non-fiction. I read all of those and didn't come across a single dud."

"You read all those?" he said glancing at the case she was gesturing to. "Of course you did."

This time he laughed out loud. Hera was beginning to feel awkward, as if she missed out on the joke.

"Yes, well, feel free to look around. I will be here if you need assistance finding anything," she said, abandoning their conversation and her lunch, pretending instead to read something on the screen of her computer.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just, a librarian who loves to read, what makes more sense then that?"

Feeling foolish for seeming offended, Hera could not deny she loved nothing more than reading.

"Try this," she said, coming out from behind he desk to locate the book she had in mind. Draco followed.

"It came in last week, it is very underrated if you ask me. I personally found it fascinating. It's about mid-century alchemy."

She ran her fingers over the spines of each plastic covered book in the row until she found it.

"Here you are," she said, handing it to him. "If there is nothing else you want I can check you out over here."

"This will be it, I think."

"Alright, may I see your library card?"

"Library card?" Draco said, perplexed. "How foolish of me. I don't have a library card."

"Well that's no problem, it only take a moment to apply for one, you just fill out this form with your information and I can get it ready for you."

"How about instead, you allow me to buy you lunch in exchange for a brief lesson on the book?"

Hera froze. This was the first time anyone had invited her out, at least as far as she could remember. She didn't have a clue as to how she should respond.

Draco must have noticed her hesitation.

"My apologies for being so forward, I should not have assumed- Perhaps you are with someone, in which case my invitation would be inappropriate."

"No, I- I'm not with anyone, it's just. It's just not a good idea, sorry."

"Oh. Right," he said, looking crestfallen. "Thank you anyway for the book recommendation. Perhaps another time."

"Another time," she repeated absently, unsure whether they were talking about the book or the date.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Hera." Draco said, turning to leave.

Before she could find a polite response, he was out the door.


	4. chapter 4

From afar he had not been sure, it was like seeing a ghost, he had told himself he was imagining things, yet he still followed her. How could he not?

For months Draco had read the headlines.

"Disappearance of a War Heroin"

"Potter Confirms Death of his Right Hand Woman"

"Another Tragic Loss for the Chosen One"

"Service Scheduled for Fallen Warrior Sans Body"

When he read the articles he felt something in the pit of his stomach, like when you miss a step going down the staircase.

So many of his classmates had already perished during the battle of Hogwarts, too many. He remembered the bodies laying among the crumbled ruins of the castle, some Draco recognized, some he didn't, some he had considered enemies, some he called friends.

The battle had ceased abruptly when Voldemort commanded the Death Eaters to retreat after the beheading of his beloved serpent. Draco remembered thinking in that moment how he had clearly never given Longbottom enough credit.

Draco had loathed that snake more than any other snake in his life. Nothing would ever eradicate from his memory the image of it devouring the body of a Hogwarts professor as Draco watched, unable to blink, petrified in his seat at his family dining table, the same table at which he'd eaten birthday cakes and Christmas dinners.

Longbottom had done something Draco would never have had the nerve to do. If he were still alive, Draco would have told him that.

When the snakes head hit the ground, the Dark Lord immediately instructed the Death Eaters to follow suit in departing the battlegrounds, which they did.

However, many had since abandoned their posts to go into hiding. Some attempted to run for a time, but ended up taking their own lives along the way, perhaps driven mad with fear of the wrath they would face if caught by their calling master whom they no longer wished to fight for.

Draco's father was one of the first to break rank. Upon returning home from the battle, the elder Malfoy decided they would all flee. He told Draco and his mother they would be safer without him, and less likely to be tracked by the Dark Lord.

His mother objected, insisting they would hold together as a family no matter what, but his father could not be swayed.

He instructed them to find a safe place and not to disclose to the location to him, that way if he was captured the Dark Lord couldn't learn their where abouts even if he penetrated his mind or tried to use Veritserum.

Not usually an affectionate man, his father held them both for a long moment before they went their separate ways, leaving behind the home they shared just and their ancestors shared before them.

Draco suspected his father thought it only a matter of time before the Dark Lord met his demise, and didn't want to be on the losing side when it happened. Perhaps he believed they could lay low until it was all over, and then start a new life with his family once together again.

The Dark Lord had obviously been severly weakened in some way, as even he seemed to be laying low in the past year since the battle, sending his few remaining ranks to do his bidding, including his self proclaimed most loyal servant, Draco's Aunt Bellatrix.

In July of last year, The Dark Lord made a single proclamation to the wizarding world. He had placed a price on the heads of two people alone.

Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

Not any of the Death Eaters who had abandoned him, nor their families, not any muggles or mudbloods. Just Harry Potter's two closest friends.

Clearly the motive was to weaken and isolate Potter, whom he had ordered to be left untouched. Draco suspected the Dark Lord at this point wanted to punish and make him suffer more than he wanted him dead.

Neither Potter, nor Weasley had not been spotted since Granger's service in February.

The magical world since had been in a state of eerie calm, yet everyone remained on edge, waiting for the inevitable.

Draco and his mother had been relocating monthly since separating from his father. Mostly they inhabited modest living spaces in muggle villages, paid for in muggle currency they'd managed to acquire in exchange for galleons.

It had taken a toll his mother. Stoic as she was, he knew she was desperately missing his father. When he sent owls, which was rare, there was always an envelope for each of them.

He would watch the sad smile form on his mother's face when she read her letter, addressed to "my love". Draco imagined it was filled with sweet sentiments and comforting words.

Draco's letter was always more blunt, giving no details of his wheresbouts, only offering advice and reminding Draco to take care of his mother above all.

At the beginning of the Summer, his mother shocked Draco by reaching out to her closest living relative, that is to say her closest living relative who was not hopelessy devoted the the Dark Lord. She contacted her older sister and Draco's aunt, Andromeda.

Draco had never met his aunt, and had only heard very little about her. His mother told him that now since Andromeda's husband and daughter had been killed, she was living in a remote country side home with only her infant grandson.

Draco was shocked again when his mother later told him instead of relocating monthly, they would move in with Andromeda.

He felt uncomfortable with the idea. She was a stranger to him. The house was rather small as well, and he didn't much know how to be around babies. After some consideration, Draco decided he would find his own home close by, to which his mother objected.

It took some persuading, but he finally convinced her it was best after proposing they be eachother's Secret Keepers, giving them more protection individually than they would have together.

Reluctantly, she agreed.

So on the last day of August after the sun went down, they relocated. His mother moved in with Andromeda, and Draco moved into a small flat he had found in the neighboring muggle village.

He spent day one settling into his new place, arranging things the way he liked and feeling a sort of independence. Despite the undesirable circumstances, he thought he could enjoy living on his own, maybe pretending a bit he wasn't a former allie to the Dark Lord, just a regular 19 year old living on his own for the first time.

The second day he decided to explore his new location a bit. It had most of the same basic ammenities as every other place; a park, a few eateries, a market, which he had previously learned is where muggles get their food. It also had a theatre where they showed "motion pictures" that Draco had never yet investigated, a library, and a school. All things he expected to see, exept for one surprise.

Hermione Granger walking down the side walk, casual as anything.

No, that was impossible, most certainly a mistake. Just like when he often thought he saw Vincent Crabbe in a crowd. Of course, when he got closer it was always just some bloke who vaguely resembled him, making Draco feel foolish because deep down he knew his friend was gone, just like the others and just like Granger.

Then he noticed the cat, the monsterous orange cat trotting beside the girl, just like the one he remembered the real Granger always toting around Hogwarts.

Strange. He couldn't look away. Then without warning the girl stopped, turning around to look right at Draco.

Had it been the real Granger, she would have curled her lip in disgust at the sight of him, thrown some snarky bite his way, stomped over and slapped him maybe. At the very least she would have been surprised to see him strolling a muggle street.

This girl however just looked curiously at him for a moment before she resumed walking.

So he followed her.

A few blocks later she ended up at a somewhat shabby looking building. Purple paint was peeling from the door which she and the ginger cat dissapeared through. It must be where she lived, the girl who looked like Granger.

He didn't know where he had expected this to lead. Feeling foolish, Draco turned back. He hadn't paid attention to the street signs along the way, but luckily he had an exceptional sense of direction. Even though he had veered off track to follow her, he was certain his place was West of here. After walking 7 blocks Draco was once again on the steps of his new residence.

He may have forgotten about the strange girl who looked like Granger, and her strange cat who seemed able to spot him no matter how carefully he lingered behind. but he couldn't, because Monday morning as he sat at his kitchen table drinking his second cup of coffee, he saw a familiar looking, bushy haired girl with an arm full of books ascend the steps to the library across the street.

Draco knew if anyone could find a way to rise from the grave for a trip to the library, it was Granger.


	5. chapter 5

Thoughts of the man from the library had kept Hera up half the night, not that she ever truly got a good night's rest.

If she wasn't thinking about the note from H.P. or theorizing how she came to suffer such immense memory loss without any discernible reason, she was obsessing over who she was before she was Hera.

Honestly, thinking about him, _Drac_ _o_ he had introduced himself as, was a refreshing new way to dwindle away the dark hours of night.

Something about him intrigued her. Not in any way she could put her finger on, she just had not yet met any other person in what span of time she could remember that actually made her _feel_ anything..

She was somewhat surprised to find herself already in front of the library. The walk had gone by unnoticed, she didn't even recall passing by the pond or saying good morning to the ducks.

Her assistant was already sitting on the steps, it was quite unusual for him to be early. He stood up and stretched when he saw her approach.

"Morning Francis," she said, fumbling with her keys.

"Hera," he nodded, stifling a yawn.

"Long night?"

"You could say that. Couple mates dragged me to some hole in the wall. Drank something green, everything's foggy after that. Woke up 'round 6AM on a stranger's sofa with only one shoe."

"Wow, pretty tame for a Monday night."

"I thought so," he said, holding the door for her.

Sipping from her thermos, Hera prepped her work space while Francis checked the overnight return box.

"Bloody hell" Francis sighed, dumping the short stack of books onto the return cart. "I feel worse than a half smashed beetle."

"Perhaps not binge drinking on work nights would remedy that, you suppose?" Hera said as her fingers tapped away on the computer keyboard.

"Nah, I'll just have to remember to call in sick next time I drink the green stuff."

"Noreen said if you call in sick one more time she'd sack you."

"Well Noreen's not here, is she? Wouldn't mind if she never came back either. Maybe she'll decide to stay in the states with her sister permanently."

"She'll come back."

"Well in the mean time she left you in charge. I have an idea, let's sack her and you can be the new boss, how about that?"

"I'd sack you, too."

"I don't believe you. Anyway, I think you'd make a very fine boss."

"Thank you."

"I mean you are incredibly bossy."

"Time to open the doors, Francis."

"Yes, boss."

Rolling her eyes, Hera returned her attention to her work.

The morning dragged by with little excitement. Francis popped out for more smoke breaks than Noreen would have allowed while Hera stayed busy organizing the supply drawer, hanging flyers for upcoming events, and creating a new book display with the theme "Cozy Autumn Reads".

After lunch she began preparing a space for the Junior Book Club that met after school every other Tuesday. She had just finished arranging the sagging bean bag chairs when the door opened.

Straightening up and smoothing her blouse, Hera turned around to greet the customer.

Sunlight reflected off his pale blonde hair before the door closed behind him. He looked at her with cool grey eyes that exactly matched the color of his jumper.

"Good afternoon," Draco said. His tone was smooth and graceful.

"Hello," she said, trying to mask the sound of what was either surprise or delight in her voice. "Have you changed your mind about applying for a library card?"

"No," he said, "have you changed your mind about lunch?"

"Er, I mean-"

"I figured as much. I actually just came to read. You only need a card if you want to take books home, but I can stay here and read all I want without a card, correct?"

"Well, yes, but that seems awfully inconvenient-"

"Hera?"

"Yes?"

"That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Just checking."

"Oh."

Hera was used to feeling like she was missing something. She felt it every time she had the most miniscule conversation with anyone. With the absence of a life's worth of memories, it was impossible to not. This time though the void felt much bigger, as if he knew not only more than her but more than most people.

Awkwardness hung thicker than honey in the air between them as neither one spoke. Luckily another customer came through the door at that moment and walked up to the circulation desk.

"Excuse me," Hera said, grateful for a moment to regroup "my assistant doesn't appear to be around, as usual. I need to check on this customer."

He didn't say a word, but she felt his eyes on her as she walked away.

- _draco's pov-_

She walked away without so much as a second glance. Draco had no doubt in his mind after just a few seconds with her yesterday that Granger genuinely did not know him, or herself for that matter.

Grabbing the first book he touched from the shelf, Draco settled into the chair with the best view of the desk where she worked and feigned reading.

He had hoped she would accept his invitation, it would be difficult to get information out of her in a professional setting. Some parts didn't require explanation. She had undoubtedly been obliviated. No enemy would erase her memories just to abandon her in a muggle village, not with the kind of price the Dark Lord put on her life.

It was also highly unlikely she would be able to escape an enemy or even know to flee after being obliviated.

The wizarding world had already been led to believe she was dead, so it only made sense that someone was hiding her, trying to protect her. That of course lead to one logical answer.

Potter had been the one to announce Granger's death, but had not originally released details. However, it was reported in an impudent article by Rita Skeeter that Potter "tragically recalled the events that lead to her death as he stood beside an empty grave" at her funeral.

Draco knew enough even then to know if it was as told by Skeeter, it was only about one quarter of truth, if that. He imagined Skeeter used her animagus form to eavesdrop on the service, which he himself hadn't attended not only because he was in hiding, but because it had been kept extremely private.

In the article, Skeeter reported those in attendance were the Weasley family, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid. That's it.

Apparently, Potter told them how he and Granger were pursued by a couple of strangers in the Cornwall. Once the pursuers realized they had been noticed following it quickly escalated into a duel. Potter said he realized they were aiming jinxes mostly at her, obviously wanting to collect the promised reward from the Dark Lord upon killing her.

Potter said Granger's wand was obtainted by one of the pursuers, which led to a chase as they were out numbered in weapons. He told them how he and Granger ran till they hit a dead end, the edge of a short cliff overlooking the ocean, and together they jumped.

He claimed that even after plunging into the freezing water, jinxes kept coming. Granger was hit before they ever came up for air, and he could not both swim to the surface and hold onto her lifeless body through the current, as he told it.

It had all sounded likely enough at the time, under the surreal veil of tragedy. Now, the gaping holes in Potter's story were blatantly obvious. Draco remembered Potter emerging from the great lake with not one but two bodies during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, but he couldn't manage to get both himself and Granger ashore?

He had also returned from the Dark Lord's rebirthing ceremony clutching Cedric's lifeless body when he could have easily left it behind.

Draco felt so foolish. He should have realized sooner that Potter would've drowned before leaving Granger behind whether she was dead or alive. That's Potter, always the hero.

It was likely Potter had apparated to this location once they hit the water, then hastily obliviated and left her, before returning to the sea where he could emerge alone, claiming she was gone for good, thus ending the manhunt.

The thought of her finding herself alone and disoriented made Draco's chest ache dully. Of course Potter hadn't thought any of it through. Typical Gryffindor, half formed plans masked by heroic grandeur.

Draco looked over his book at Granger, who was talking enthuastically to the man leaning casually on the counter. The man flashed a smile that reminded Draco of their second year Potion's Professor, which also reminded him of the way Granger had looked at their second year Potion's Professor. Draco shut his book.

"Pardon me, Miss, could you help me locate something?"

She looked away from the man, who appeared disgruntled now that his charm had been interrupted.

"Of course, be right with you," she said, sliding a glossy new library card to the man, who gave Draco a scathing look once she had turned her back.

He couldn't blame him. She was no Madam Pince after all. In stark contrast to the Hogwarts' librarian's vulture like features, Granger's were soft and round, just like the curls of her hair. It also helped that she was wearing a fitted, navy skirt that modestly reached her knees but also hugged her rather wide hips and still showed off her smooth calves. Draco repressed a smirk when the man gave her a last glance before closing the door behind him.

"What can I help you find?" Granger asked.

"He was a tad old to be flirting with someone your age, don't you think?"

Her cheeks flushed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's starting to grey around the hairline, I mean. Probably at least in his late 30's. Why does a bloke that age need a library card anyway?"

"I- That was not flirting! Not that it's your business but if you must know, he is a school teacher and needs access to some volumes they don't carry in his school's library."

"Teacher, of course, that makes perfect sense."

"Yes, of course it-"

"That way every year he keeps getting older but the girls stay the same age."

"I'm sorry, did you need help finding something?"

"Yes."

"Well, what is it?"

"A good place for lunch, do you know any?"

"You want restaurant reccomendations?" she asked.

"Well, I'm new to this area you see. I was hoping you could tell me the best places to dine."

She bit her lip, an oddly familiar habit that was so ingrained into her subconcious it had survived the spell.

"I honestly don't know any," she said, sounding defeated.

"Oh. Are you new to this area also?" Draco pryed.

If she the stubborn Granger he knew still existed deep down, he wondered how long it would take her to come clean about her memory loss.

"Well, yes, sort of."

"Then perhaps we could hunt for a place together. You do eat lunch, I assume?"

"I do, but when I work I just bring lunch from home."

"What about the days you don't work?"

"Yes, I eat lunch on those days as well."

"Perfect, we will have lunch one of those days."

She bites her lip again.

"Are you always this persistant?" Hera asked.

Draco pretended to ponder it for a second.

"Yes, always."

He thought her mouth hitched up a bit in the corner. She did not answer immediately.

"Fine. Lunch would be fine."

"Spectacular, you choose the day."

"Well, Saturday I have lunch with my-" she stopped abruptly.

"Boyfriend?" Draco filled in the blank. "Yesterday when I asked you said-"

"No," she continued hastily, "my grandmother."

"Ah, I see. Well I wouldn't dream of interfering with plans with your grandmother."

"Sunday I'm free."

"That's funny," he said, "Sunday, I am also free."

"Noon?"

"Noon it is."

With that, Draco thought it best to leave before she changed her mind.

"Enjoy the rest of your week, Miss Gilmore. I'll see you Sunday."

He turned toward the door.

"Wait," she said.

Draco stopped. It never did take Granger long to come to her senses.

"You don't know where I live."

Of course he did know where she lived, but he thought letting her know he had followed her home would put a damper on their lunch plans.

"You're right," Draco said, also remembering he didn't have any muggle transportation. That would need to be remedied before Sunday. It was getting far too cold to walk, and there would of course be no apparating.

"How about we meet here?" she suggested, and Draco realized perhaps she didn't think it was a good idea to tell a stranger where she lived.

"The library is closed on Sundays, but we could meet on the steps," she said.

"As long as it's not a dreadful distance for you to travel?"

"Oh no, I love to walk. Is it too far for you?"

Draco thought for half a second about how Granger had made a smart choice not giving a stranger her address, but then thought to Hades with it.

"Actually, I just live right across the street," he said.

So much for the Fidelius Charm.

She smiled, and he did too.

Once again he turned to leave.

"Wait," she said, "I don't even know your whole name."

Funny, she was never this cautious when she was breaking every rule in existence at Hogwarts. Still she had a point.

"It's Mal-" he stopped.

Draco had already approached her when he was supposed to be laying low, given her his first name, and divulged the location of his hideout which was all reckless enough. Yet fear or paranoia suddenly bubbled inside him, as if his name was the magic word that would trigger her to suddenly realize he was she was Hermione Granger and he was the stupid boy who had followed the wrong leader into war.

"-lory," he recovered quickly, "Draco Mallory."

Good enough.


	6. chapter 6

What on Earth had possessed her to agree to a lunch date?

The entire week Hera had been frazzled. Luckily Draco had not made any more appearances at the library. If he had, he would have seen her dropping books, making errors in her filing, and snapping at Francis.

What was she going to say to him? When is the right time to tell someone you have no recollection of your life? Had she even ever been on a date before?

That question snowballed into other questions which plagued her before but now consumed her. Had she kissed anyone before? Had she slept with anyone before? Had she been in relationship, been in a love, had her heart broken?

Then it turned into the usual endless cycle of questions without answers. Did she have a family? Why hadn't they found her? Had she any friends? Did they notice she was gone? Where was she from? Had she completed school? What was her favorite food?

Never ending.

It must have been after 3AM when she finally fell asleep. She then woke at 4:31, again at 5:19, and once more at 6:47, 13 minutes before her alarm was set to go off.

Her stomach was turning uncomfortably as she sipped her morning coffee. Pythagarus purred at her feet, it was soothing. She passed the morning with a book, but found she was not absorbing the words like usual.

Despite the cool temperature, her neck felt tacky and her hairline was damp with sweat. She decided to wash again even though she had bathed before bed.

She brushed her teeth for the second time. One of the very first things she learned about herself was how important she found oral care to be, and also how the process of caring for her teeth seemed to relax and comfort her when she was feeling anxious. Today it only slightly tamed her nerves.

With her mouth tasting pleasantly like spearamint, Hera moved to her closet. It had not occurred to her to plan an outfit ahead of time. She didn't own many garments so her options were slim anyway. Mostly she'd accumulated her wardrobe from thrift stores.

After some experimenting, she decided on her long sleeved green blouse paired with a black skirt she'd never worn because it was too short for work, so she chose to wear dark gray tights for warmth and modesty, plus a pair of black ankle boots.

She put on the only necklace she had, in fact it was the only jewelry she had. It was a simple silver chain with a cluster of silver stars on the pendant. No one had claimed it from the library's lost and found.

She wondered if she had once possessed some magic touch that would tame her wild mane. If there was a trick, she didn't know it now. After 20 minutes under the with the hair dryer, her thick curls sprung out in every direction of her crown.

A dozen bobby pins later she had managed to secure most of it in a pile on top of her head with only a few unruly tendrils still escaping to coil around her cheekbones.

If ever she had worn make up before, she did not fuss with it now, not even knowing where one would begin. She had purchased a tube of mascara from the drugstore a few months back and occasionally remembered to apply it before work. She fetched it from the medicine cabinet and paired it with her one staple, a beeswax lip balm she was never without.

"What do you think Pythagarus?" She asked, standing as far from her vanity mirror as she could trying to see he whole self.

The feline blinked his amber eyes.

"Good enough, indeed. I hope this isn't a terrible mistake."

It was only quarter after 11, but she set off walking anyway before she could talk herself out of going.

The whole way to the library she pondered what she could possibly find to talk about. She imagined various scenarios in which Draco asked her the type of casual questions characters on the telly often asked each other.

"So where were you born?" she imagined him asking.

"Oh, I haven't the slightest idea," she would respond.

"Well, what do your parents do?"

"Actually, I'm not even certain I have any parents."

"So where did you go to school?"

"Funny you should ask, your guess is as good as mine."

This was going to be disastrous.

She could see him leaning against the pillar of the library steps. His hands were behind his back, and one foot was crossed behind the other. He looked off in the other direction. It was difficult to tell whether he had a flair for making elegant look casual or casual look elegant.

"You're early," Hera said once she was in speaking distance.

Draco turned to face her, his eyes flickered from her head to her toes and back again.

"As are you," he pointed out.

She couldn't help but notice him stiffen a little.

"Right," she said. "So, er, how was your week?"

"Painfully uneventful. Yours?"

"Just, ordinary," she lied. There was nothing ordinary about being a stranger to yourself.

"Well there's still time to remedy that," he smirked.

That smirk was so alluring she almost felt at ease.

Almost.

Fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, she asked "So, er, where will we be eating?"

"Well, seeing as neither of us knew a good place, we'll have to find one together."

"Oh," she said, wondering if her choice of footwear had been a mistake, but Draco walked across the street, looking back to make sure she was following. He led them to a sleek, black car who's make and model was a mystery to her, she knew if possible even less about cars than she knew about herself.

He opened the passenger door for her.

She had never been in such a nice vehicle before, that she could remember at least. Did she even have a license to drive?

After a few minutes and some small talk about the weather, Hera was starting to relax.

"I've ate there," she said, pointing out her window, "Hatti's, that's where I have lunch with my- my grandmother."

"So your grandmother lives here, is that why you came to this area?" Draco asked.

It had been fun being relaxed for all of 10 seconds.

"Er, well, not exactly. You're new to the area, you say?"

"Yes, I've been moving around a lot lately, for business."

"Business? You seem so young to be a already be a businessman."

"I was fortunate enough to receive an education from a rather prestigious private school, then went into the family business, but recently I've set out on my own."

This all made perfect sense to Hera. He exuded an air of wealth and privilege.

"There's a sushi joint," he said, nodding toward next corner. "Do you like sushi?"

"I don't think so," she answered honestly as she could.

"Good, neither do I."

They stopped at a red light. Pedestrians crossed the street, some carrying shopping bags, others pulling children along by the hand.

"Do you come from a big family?" Draco asked as his eyes followed the people.

Hera's spine stiffened. "No, it's just me."

"I see. I'm an only child as well."

"Kiki's, I've heard of that place," she gestured out the window, desperate to lead the conversation in a less personal direction. "Francis always talks about having pizza delivered from there."

"Francis?"

"My assistant at the library."

"Ah, that scrawny bloke that's smokes cigarettes under the birch tree?"

"That's him."

"Hmm," Draco said, spinning the steering wheel to make a left onto Bumble Street. "He seems like a twat."

Taken aback, Hera stared at him with wide eyes.

"What on Earth makes you say that?"

"His shirt's wrinkled and half tucked, and he appears to spend more time not working than working. Not to mention when I passed him as I left the library his breath wreaked so strongly of alcohol it could get a hinkypunk drunk."

"A what?" Hera asked.

"It's just an expression."

"Oh."

"How has he not been terminated?" Draco asked.

"Well, our supervisor has been out for a while, she left me in charge, for obvious reasons, but he knows I don't have the authority to fire him so he takes advantage a bit."

"So don't fire him, straighten him out."

"Easier said than done," she said.

"I have a feeling you're capable."

"The Bubbling Pot," Hera read the name painted across a large glass window, "that could be good."

"Alright," Draco said, pulling into a nearby parking spot.

Before she could let herself out, he came around and opened the door for her.

She thanked him as he lead them into the restaurant.

Here goes nothing.

 _Draco's POV_

As he pulled her chair out for her, Draco noticed the pink blossoming on the apples of her cheeks. She always did embarrass easily, he remembered, especially the times when he was a prat to her. Since her face was still inflamed now that he is minding his manners he thought perhaps she was just prone to it.

Sitting down across from her, Draco withheld a snicker. He couldn't believe she actually showed up to their lunch in Slytherin colors. It was unintentional of course, but amusing none the less.

Two menus were already on the table. She immediately picked hers up and hid behind it. Oddly enough, he was used to seeing only bits and peices of her being visible from behind her reading material.

He picked up his own menu and browsed it leisurely.

Muggle food had taken some getting used to, but there were a few dishes he had taken quite a liking to.

"See anything you like?" Draco asked.

Her eyes appeared over the top of her menu.

"I don't know, I usually just make cheese toasties for lunch on my days off work."

"Then order anything but that," he instructed.

The waitress, a middle aged woman in heavy makeup, appeared at their table and took a pencil from her hair.

"Afternoon, kids! Today we have a special on our fish and chips basket if you're interested."

Now that Granger had laid her menu flat on the table, Draco could see her chewing her lip nervously.

"Fish and chips sound rather good actually. What do you think, Hera?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking about ordering," she said, rushing to close her menu.

"And to drink?" the waitress asked.

"Tea, please," Hera said.

"Tea for me as well, thanks," Draco added.

Returning the pencil to her hair, the waitress hurried off toward to back.

It was a moment before either of them spoke. He watched Granger as she looked all around the room, absolutely anywhere but him.

"So, Hera, besides making cheese toasties, how else do you spend your time when you're not working?"

"I read," Hera answered immediately.

"Ah, and your extensive love or literature is what lead you the library profession?"

"Well, no. That was just luck."

As expected, she was being intentionally vague. Did she honestly think she could go on not mentioning her utter lack or memory?

"What sort of business do you do exactly?" Hera asked.

"The dreadfully boring kind," he said, equally as vague."

"I'm certain I won't find it boring," Hera assured him.

Before he could answer, the waitress returned with a pot of tea and their food, placing a basket of fish and chips before each of them. Draco placed his paper napkin across his lap. Shabby muggle joint or not, there was no need to let all etiquette go out the window.

In a way, Draco enjoyed the more casual way of dining he'd adapted to. Growing up at home, every meal was a proper affair; gourmet foods prepared and served by house elves in courses. Hogwart's meals weren't quite as formal, but the experience still had a grand splendor to it. A couple years prior, forgoing his utensils to eat greasy foods prepared by muggles with his bare hands was something he wouldn't have dreamed he would ever do, let alone enjoy. Then again, he never would have imagined dining with Granger, either, so there's that.

It was relatively quiet as they ate. She consumed her meal rather quickly, he assumed her plan was to keep her mouth full as frequent as possible so she would be unable to answer questions. He managed to interject as she sipped her tea between bites.

"Do you keep in touch with your many of your friends back home?"

She took another long sip of her tea before she answered.

"Some of them, yes."

He waited in vain for her to elaborate. She took another bite.

"Do you have any pets?"

"Yes," she said, much more enthusiastically this time, no doubt happy to finally have been asked a question she had a real answer to. "I have a cat, his name is Pythagoras and he is the smartest thing. I really feel like he understands what I'm saying sometimes. Isn't that silly?"

"Not at all. Some creatures are far more intelligent than people give them credit for."

"Do you have any pets?"

Technically, yes, though he couldn't exactly tell her he had an owl. Muggles would not comprehend the domestication of what they would consider wild life.

"No, but I've been considering getting one," he said instead.

"Well I highly recommend Cosmo's Pet Planet should you decide to adopt one."

"I will keep that in mind."

She smiled, and looked down at her nearly empty plate.

"Shall we order dessert?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm actually pretty full."

"There is always room for dessert," Draco said, looking at the small menu on the side of the napkin dispenser. "Apple cake is this month's special. They also have bread pudding, trifle, and treacle tart."

"Treacle tart is my favorite! That's what I order from Hatti's when I have dessert."

He smirked, wondering if her fondness of treacle tart was something she retained from her previous self.

When the waitress returned to top off their beverages, Draco ordered dessert for them. Treacle tart for her, apple cake for him. She returned in seconds balancing both plates on her forearm and holding their slip in her free hand.

Granger let out a small "mmmm" at the sight of her dish, and immediately plunged her fork into it. Draco watched her take a bite before tasting his own dessert.

"This is delicious, you don't know what you're missing," she informed him when she was half way through.

"This apple cake is actually rather spectacular. Forgive me for saying you made the didn't select the right dessert."

"You're wrong," she said said in such a simply Granger-ish tone that it caught Draco off guard.

"I don't believe I am," he said confidently.

"Try it then," she said with a playful smugness, pushing her plate with last few bites of her treacle tart toward him, "see for yourself."

Draco was suddenly painfully uncomfortable. He was conflicted by the manners his mother had instilled in him. It's rude to eat from another person's plate, but it was also rude to refuse the request of a lady.

Manners aside, the thought of eating after a mud- muggleborn, he corrected himself midthought, made him uneasy. He had been making a true effort to unlearn the prejudices that had been conditioned to believe, but he had never had any real contact with muggleborns. It was the same thing that had stopped him kissing her hand when she arrived today. Manners told him it was proper, his upbringing told him she was filthy, and even though he knew now that wasn't the truth, it didn't stop him being afraid. All the girls he'd touched, kissed, slept with, they were all pureblood witches.

What bothered him the most, however, was how strangely intimate it seemed to eat after someone. The thought made him suddenly aware with a jolt that he was on a date with Hermione Granger. Granted, she did not know she was Hermione Granger any more than she knew he was Draco Malfoy, but it didn't negate the fact that the two of them were indeed on a lunch date.

"Go on," she interrupted his internal panic, "try it."

"I'm sorry, I- I really don't care for it," he stammered. "Actually I'm quite full after all."

It was true, the apple cake he was enjoying seconds ago was suddenly quite unappealing, he even felt a bit queasy, and must have looked it, too, as he could tell by the way her face fell when she pulled the plate back toward her, and put down her fork without finishing that she had sensed the sudden tension.

"Suit yourself," she muttered.

Funny, she had been the one reluctant to come, and he'd expected to watch her squirm as he pryed for answers she could not give all the while she tried to cover the fact she had no memories of her previous life, but he ended up being the one who couldn't wait to get out of there.

"All finished?" Draco asked, realizing how rude it sounded out loud.

"Finished," she responded, her eyes flickering nervously from her plate to him.

She had stood up before he could pull out her chair. Though she tried to pay for her half of the meal, Draco would not allow it. While he paid the bill she went to stand by the car.

The drive back to the library was quiet. He offered twice to drive her home, but she insisted on being dropped off back at the library, saying she needed to retrieve something she'd left inside before leaving work Friday.

"-and anyway," she added, "I really enjoy the walk, especially after a meal."

He parked the car in front of his house. She thanked him for lunch, and he thanked her for the company. He opened the door for her.

"Well, see you," she said, and turned to cross the street.

"See you," he repeated, noting how insufficient the words sounded.

He doubted she actually left anything in the library, but she had to follow through now. He watched her ascend the steps and unlock the door.

He leaned his back against the car and ran his hands through his hair. He blew it. Things had gone sour and she would likely never accept another invitation from him. So much for figuring out exactly how she'd come to be in such a peculiar reality.

It would be impossible to live across the street from the library, watching her come and go each day, pretending it wasn't strange that she was living the wrong life, that he knew she was alive when the rest of the world believed her to be dead.

Yet he couldn't tell the world she was still alive, that would be as good casting the killing curse himself. Potter had done this to protect her, but was she protected? Had Potter put someone in place to watch over her from afar? It didn't look like it.

She was out it public, living amomg muggles, she could be accidentally discovered by anyone. Hell, he'd found her! He could grab Potter by the neck of his robes and shake him. Brilliant fucking plan, he would say. I would have been the last person you would've wanted to find her. Lucky for Potter, and Granger, Draco wasn't the same person he was a few years before. Not everyone had changed though, and if the wrong person discovered her-

He heard the heavy door to the library shut, and turned around to see Granger walking down the steps. She looked unnerved that he was still standing there.

He went to meet her in the middle of the street.

"Hera, I'd like to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. It's been a rather stressful week, settling in and adjusting to another new town, and I'm just feeling rather odd. Not myself. I hope today won't keep you from accepting future invitations."

By the look on her face, it would.

"It's fine, really. I'm honestly not one for dates anyway," she said.

"Perhaps you would give me a chance to redeem myself over coffee?"

She bit her lip, considering it.

"Please," he added for good measure.

"Coffee would be fine," she said at last.

"When is a good time for you?"

"I don't know, maybe after work. Wednesday?"

"Wednesday," he agreed.

"Right. I'll see you then."

"If you're certain I can't drive you home," he stopped her, "could I at least walk you there?"

"Thanks, but I'll be fine on my own," she assured him.

With that, she left.

He watched her for a moment, thinking of all the things she couldn't even begin to comprehend. Draco wouldn't have worried about Hermione Granger the witch, she was quite capable of defending herself, but as for Hera Gilmore, the muggle without a wand or a clue of the real danger that existed, it was unnerving just how vulnerable she was. The urge to follow her home was strong, but Draco resisted.

How nice it would be to have Potter's invisibility cloak at a time like this.

 ** _author's note:_**

To those of you following this story, i thank you for your patience. Things have been hectic, and it's taken a while to update because I struggled a bit with this chapter, but I really fought to get it finished today in honor of Hermione Granger's birthday!

Happy Birthday, Hermione! I hope this chapter did you, er well, Hera, justice!


	7. chapter 7

Pythagoras woke Hera at 3AM. This may annoy some, but Hera was grateful. She had been having terrible nightmares. She could no longer recall any details, only the odd nauseous feeling and cool perspiration it left her with. The cat's soft purring was comforting. She wondered if he'd known she was dreaming.

It was too early to get up. She sat up and leaned back against the headboard, looking at the shadows of swaying tree branches outside her curtains.

She was supposed to have coffee with Draco after work today. Quite frankly, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Since their lunch date last Sunday, Granger had felt inexplicibly depressed, more than she had ever been in her span of memory. Something about seeing Draco made her buzz. It was as if he heightened her senses. Strange as it sounded, she felt like electricity coarsed through her and all the way to her fingertips when she looked at him. But then when he wasnt around, the absence of that feeling was almost unbearable.

Was this what attraction felt like? He was very attractive. His cheekbones were razor sharp, his cool grey eyes were lovely, and his smile was beyond charming, but she truly believed this particular sensation was unrelated to any of that. It was something different.

He had stopped in the library the day before with two slabs of treacle tart and told her that she had been right, it was the better dessert. The gesture had made her smile, and his presence made her buzz. He stayed for only a moment and then when he was gone she felt worse than she had before.

Pythagoras made the empty feeling lesser. He was the only thing that did so. She had even been struggling to get lost in her books.

She wondered if it was a good idea confide in Ms. Ellerbee, about the way she'd been feeling. Surely this was normal for someone in her condition, but she didn't want them to think she wasn't coping well. Perhaps they would put her back in the hospital, thinking the world was too much for her to handle on her own after all.

Sleep had reclaimed her somewhere between worries and the purring of Pythagarus. The nightmares did not return, but dreams of Draco did. She almost recalled one when she woke up, just before opening her eyes. She thought he might have been sweeping the floor. It was so absurd and meaningless, she forgot about it completely by breakfast.

 _Draco's POV_

Draco decided to head into the library before it closed to meet Hera. She was busy messing with the thing he had heard her call "computer". Curls were falling in her face. She blew one out of the way only for it to fall right where it was before.

"Hi," she said, looking up when the door closed behind him. "I'm just finishing up."

"No hurry. I thought I would ask where you prefer to get your coffee."

"The only place I've had coffee is Hatti's. Do you have anywhere else in mind?"

"Well, there's a place near the park called the Brewer Club. Perhaps we could grab a cup to go and take a stroll by the pond. The weather is pretty mild this evening."

She disappeared below the desk and reemerged with her bag and a jingling set of keys.

"That sounds nice. I'm nearly ready. Frances!"

"Yeah, boss?" Frances called from somewhere in the aisles.

"Time to go!" Granger replied.

"Right, here I am," he said as he appeared.

He was rather oily looking. His forhead shined, as did his hair. It could use a comb, and a wash and a cut for that matter. He ran his hand through it upon seeing Draco. Draco imagined grease stains on all the books he touched.

"This your date then?" Frances asked Granger as he eyed Draco up and down.

Her signiture shade of pink blossomed on her cheeks. Draco realized it was one of his favorite things.

"We're going for coffee," she said without looking at either of them.

Granger looked like she needed some coffee. In addition to her pink cheeks, Draco noticed hints of purple under her eyes. Perhaps she wasn't sleeping well, or perhaps she was working too hard. This pathetic wanker wasn't much help, that was for sure.

"Go ahead and punch out, Frances. I'll be just a minute."

"I'll wait outside, Hera," Draco said.

Frances walked out behind him a minute later and lit up a smoke. He shook his pack at Draco, who declined.

"You look like the type who prefers fancy cigars, am I right?

"No," Draco said flatly.

"So, eh, you think you'll get anywhere with that one?" Frances asked conversationally as if they were old pals.

Draco did not play along.

"Well good luck to ya, mate. She's a stiff, that one. Doubt she'll be much fun for ya. I've hit on her loads of times and got nothing. Least she's good to look at. Got a nice arse on her. That's a plus, yeah?" he said with a nauseating wink.

In that moment, Draco realized who he was reminded of; Cormac McLaggen, formerly a keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and also Granger's date to Slug Club social event in their sixth year. Cormac was slimy and overly confident, as was Frances, except this bloke didn't even have McLaggen's decent looks to get by on. Draco hated Cormac McLaggen, and now he hated Frances, too.

"How long did you say you worked here?" Draco asked.

"Round two years, I suppose," Frances said, taking an overly dramatic drag of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke through his nose.

"Well, I believe that's long enough."

"What's 'at?"

"You're not going to work here anymore. Starting now. Do you understand?"

Frances laughed. "Nah, can't say that I do."

"Then I'll be more clear. Don't let me see your greasy face anywhere near this library, or Hera. Ever."

"What d'ya think you're playing at-"

Draco plucked the cigarette from between Frances' lips and held it in his palm. They both looked down at it, just as it burst into jet black flames. Frances started at the fire burning comfortably in Draco's hand. Draco made a fist and when he opened it again, no traces remained.

"Good luck with the job hunt, Frances. We won't be seeing you around."

Granger walked out of the library at that moment. Frances looked from Draco to her and back again. Then without a word he took off at a fast pace.

"Bye, Frances," she called, catching a glimpse of him before he disappeared around the corner.

"He seems in a hurry to get out of here," Draco said. "Ready?"

"Yes," she said with a small smile.

They ordered their coffees to go and made there way back across the street to the park. It wasn't too crowded despite the fair weather. The pond reflected golden sunlight on it's murky surface. Ducks left rippling streaks behind them as they swam. Granger watched the ducks and Draco watched Granger.

"This is one of my favorite places," she said, "it soothes me."

"It Is nice," Draco agreed. "What was your favorite spot in the place you lived before?"

She took a long sip from her coffee to stall that question.

"I.. I guess I didn't really have one," she said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her wrist. "What was yours?"

Draco thought about it for a minute.

"I loved the games field at my school. It was one of my favorite places to be. Sometimes I'd go out there on my own on days we didn't practice. It was a good place to clear my mind."

"That sounds nice. Do you ever go back to visit?"

"No, I don't. It's not the same anymore."

One of the ducks waddled out of the pond and right by her feet. She smiled to herself as she watched it go by.

"Are you happy in this town?" he asked.

"I like it here. I love working at the library."

"Do you ever think about what else is out there?"

"All the time."

Something in her eyes changed a bit. Though she continued to look at the ducks, he suspected she was no longer seeing them.

He wondered if she would ever admit to not knowing who she was. Would she confide in him that her very own existence was a mystery to her? She couldn't keep up such a charade forever. Then again, could he?

"I have a confession to make," he said as they started making their way back around the pond.

Her eyes widened as if this was the moment she'd been waiting for.

"I.. You see I- I've never been to the movies before."

It took a second, but the tension melted from her face and she laughed.

"Never?" she asked.

"Never. Have you?"

She stopped laughing.

"Well I.. I mean- Is this your way of asking me to the movies?"

"Maybe," Draco said, feeling the smirk forming on his face.

"Oh. Well, I suppose we could go sometime. What film did you have in mind?"

"Your choice. Friday night, then?

"Friday should be fine," she said.

"I won't keep you out too late, wouldn't want you to be tired when you go out to lunch with your grandmother."

"Right, my grandmother," she repeated.

He wondered who her "grandmother" actually was, if it was perhaps the person Potter enlisted to watch over Granger. Then again he still doubted Potter was bright enough to appoint such a person.

"So can I pick you up at your place around 7? I'd rather you not walk alone after dark, seeing as how dreadful I'd feel if you got mugged on your way to meet me."

She brought her coffee cup to her lips, he thought a he could see a small smile hiding behind it.

"You can pick me," she said.

"Perfect."

She didn't say much more as they made a final lap around the pond, but he noticed her eyes flickering toward him quite often.

"The sun is starting to go down," Draco pointed out.

"Yeah, it's really beautiful. I should be heading home though."

"May I walk you? Then I'll know where to pick you up."

She bit her lip for a second before responding.

"That would be nice, I think."

Maybe she was starting to trust him after all.

"Well then, you lead the way miss."

The walk to her flat was mostly quiet. He was surprised when she asked if he had any brothers or sisters. He said no, to which she responded that she didn't either. He asked if she liked to travel, and she said not much.

"Have you ever flown?" she asked as they approached her front steps.

"What?" Draco asked, unsure if he'd heard her correctly.

"You seem like someone who's travelled a lot. Surely you've been in an aeroplane.

Ah, yes. Draco had heard about areoplanes. He was actually quite impressed muggles had figured out how to get them into the air without magic. Aeroplanes fascinated Draco.

"Actually, I love to fly," he said, which was partially true. He missed his broom terribly.

"I'm a bit frightened at the thought of it, honestly," she said.

Draco resisted a smirk. How Granger-like she still was. Brazen and brave in the face of enimies, willing to die on behalf of her friends, yet petrified at the thought of broomsticks or an A on her homework. As Hera, she had adapted to this new life alone, and seemed to be handling it quite well, but the thought of flying was a too much. Yes, Granger was definitely still in there.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he said instead. "It seems scary because you've never done it. Maybe you actually love to fly and don't know it yet."

"Maybe," she said thoughtfully.

A shrill scratching sound made them both look over. Granger's fat ginger cat was inside the window, rapidly swiping both front paws up and down the glass.

"That's Pythagoras. He's probably hungry. I better get inside."

The cats eyes were fixated on Draco. He had a feeling that even if "Hera" was starting to trust him, her cat sure wasn't.

"Thanks for the coffee, and for walking me home," she added.

"Anytime."

"I'll see you Friday?

"Maybe sooner," Draco said. He had a feeling she was going to be needing an extra hand at the library without Frances around.

"Well, goodnight then," she said as she turned to walk up her steps.

Draco caught her gently by the hand.

"Goodnight, Hera," he said, and placed a small kiss near her knuckles.

She didn't say anything, but she looked back over her shoulder at him as she walked up the steps. Her ginger cat continued to stare at him, unmoving long after she closed the door.

By time Draco got back home it was completely dark. He sat down at his kitchen table and ran his hands through his hair, then down his chin, and over his eyelids.

"Fuck," he muttered.

What started out as curiosity of how exactly Granger came to be in this predicament, and where she would go from here, had turned into him thoroughly enjoying the time he got to spend with her.

It had been quite lonely since the war began, since he went into hiding, since he no longer had any true friends. It had felt good to see a familiar face, even if it was Granger's, especially since he had believed her to be among the many of their deceased schoolmates.

He was not the same person he had been before the war. Granger didn't even remember the person she was, let alone who he used to be. How would she react if she knew the truth, that he had bullied her and her friends, called her a mudblood, stood across from her on a battlefield.

Now here he was taking her out under the premise that he was someone else, someone better. The thought made his stomach turn with guilt. He was knee deep in lies and quickly sinking.

"Fuck."

What had he got himself into.

 **A/N**

Hey guys, remember me?? It's been ages, and I apologize. You've all probably lost interest by now. BUT if any of you did stick around, or if any newcomers have made it to this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it! It's kind of a slow one, but I am trying to get back into the groove. I know where I want this story to go, and things between Draco and "Hera" are about to pick up steam. Thanks for reading, see you in chapter 8!


	8. chapter 8

It had not been Hera's best day. She arrived to work a few minutes late because her keys to the library were misplaced and she had spent most of the morning searching her flat for them, causing her to miss breakfast and rush through dressing.

She finally found them underneath the sofa even though she distinctly remembered hanging them on the hook by the front door when she got home the night before, just as she always did. She reasoned that they must have slipped off the peg and Pythagoras swatted them under there.

It was pouring rain by time she left the house. Once she finally made it to work, soaking wet despite the efforts of her umbrella, she realized Frances wasn't there yet. It was not unlike him to run late, so she waited.

When he still hadn't arrived by mid morning, she tried telephoning him, but he didn't answer. She was so put off that she left him a nasty message telling him not to bother coming back to work if that's how irresponsible and inconsiderate he was going to be after all the breaks she'd given him.

Though she worried a bit that her supervisor, Noreen, would be upset she took it upon herself to fire Frances, it still felt rather good to tell someone off. He'd had it coming, anyway.

When lunch time rolled around, she realized she had been so frazzled looking for her keys this morning that she hadn't packed herself any food.

Just as she was starting to develop a headache from either hunger, lack of caffeine, or sheer aggravation, Draco walked in carrying a cardboard cup holder with two drinks, and a brown paper bag.

"Hera," he greeted her with a slight nod of his head, "I stopped at the bakery down the street and thought you might like something."

"Actually, I would love that. Thank you," she said.

He passed her a pastry and one of the cups of steaming tea. It all smelled so delicious she couldn't help but to dig right in.

"Has it been very busy here today?"

"Well," she said, swallowing the mouthful of apple pastry she had been devouring, "there was a meeting of the Lavender Ladies Society, and a small rush around 10:30, which isn't too bad exept Frances never showed up so I hadn't any help."

"He didn't show up?" Draco asked, "what a prat."

Hera laughed, covering her full mouth.

"He was sort of a prat. This is delicious by the way. I was really hungry," she said.

"Happy I could be of service."

She licked a bit of pastry off her lip and wiped her hands. She wasn't sure if it was the food, or seeing Draco, but she was suddenly feeling much better.

"Speaking of service," he said, running a long finger across a stack of returned books, "are you in need of some help, seeing as what's-his-name isn't here?"

"Er, I mean, it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, working with Frances was sort of like working alone anyway."

"I assure you, it's no bother. Let me help."

Hera found that his soft, grey eyes were utterly persuasive. It also didn't help that he looked particularly attractive today in his black button up shirt tucked neatly into tailored slacks, which in contrast only made her more painfully aware of her mud spattered pant legs and frizzier than usual hair.

"I suppose I could use an extra set of hands to shelve returns, but don't you need to be at your work?"

"No. You see, that's the beauty of being your own boss," he said, picking up the stack of books.

"Alright, then. Just follow the numbers on the spine of the books, they will tell you where the books belong in each aisle."

Hera was helping a customer check out when Draco finished. Aside from a few uni students studying near the window, it was just the two of them. Hera both liked and disliked this. It made her finger tips tingly and her stomach nervous all at the same time.

"Anything else?" Draco asked, leaning casually on the circulation desk.

"Nothing at the moment, but I do appreciate all this; the help and the tea, and just.. being so kind. I don't know many people here. It gets rather.."

"Lonesome?" Draco interjected.

"A bit, yes."

"I certainly can relate."

"Well, yes, I imagine you would. How do you pass the time when it becomes too much?"

"I come here and bother you," he said with a sly sort of grin.

Her cheeks felt suddenly warm, but shw found herself grinning, too.

"I'd ask how you pass the time," he added, "but I already know."

Feeling unreasonably paranoid, Hera wondered if he somehow knew that she secretly spent most of her waking moments thinking about what could have happened to make her not remember an entire lifetime, and if she ever would remember.

"Reading, of course," he finished.

"What?"

"Reading. You said you loved to read.

"Oh yes, I did. I do."

"Did you always love to read? Even as a child?"

Her stomach dropped uncomfortably.

"I- er, I couldn't imagine a time that I didn't love to read."

"I bet you were top of your class, being so well read."

"I don't know about that," she muttered.

"Modesty looks strange on you," he said, the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile.

Once again, she had the strange sensation creep up the back of her neck, like she was missing the joke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short, Hera. You're obviously very sharp, there's nothing wrong with that. No need to try and hide it."

The door opened and in walked a woman with two small children, who both instantly ran in opposite directions.

"If you're certain I can't be of any more assistance, I'll be going so you can get back to work," Draco said. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow, for the movie. I will see you then. Bye, Draco."

"Goodbye, Hera."

 _Draco's POV_

Granger was doing a pretty good job at pretending she was not stranger to herself. Her stubborness, obviously, was not damaged during Potter's shotty spellwork.

Draco crossed the street back to his house from the library. He hadn't quite reached his steps when he stopped in his tracks. A large screech owl was perched on his window box. Tied to it's leg was a slip of parchment. He recognized the pale green stationary.

He took the parchment from the owl. This was bound to look a little odd the passing muggles.

Looking around, he quickly unrolled the note.

"Darling," it read, in his mothers impeccable script, "I hope you are well. I miss you terribly. Your aunt will be out for a while this Saturday, so I thought it would be a good time for me to get out as well. I want to see my son. I will be arriving at noon. Please confirm this by sending word with Rauol. Until then, all my love."

"Rauol?" Draco said aloud, looking to the owl who looked back and stuck his leg out.

Draco fetched a quill from inside. He hastily dipped it in some ink and scrawled "Noon it is. Love, always."

As soon as he tied the to Rauol's leg, the owl set off. Draco envied it soaring freely through the sky.

It would be nice to see his mother. He hadn't visited her at his aunt's house. It was a bit awkward, seeing as how he had never really been around Andromeda in his lifetime. He still preferred her to Bellatrix, of course.

Oddly enough, as much as he looked forward to seeing his mother, he was actually more eager to see Granger again. His stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the realization, so he fetched his bottle of firewhiskey and a glass to remedy it.

That night as Draco was trying to fall asleep, his mind swimming in alcohol, memories of past years at Hogwarts paraded through his mind.

He thought about sorting ceremonies, Quidditch matches, and playing Wizards Chess with Theodore Nott in the Slytherin common room.

He thought about Potions lessons and how Snape awarded points when Draco followed directions, but berrated Granger for being a know-it-all when she answered questions correctly.

He thought about holiday feasts, end of the year exams, and long train rides on the Hogwarts Express.

He thought about Granger yelling that he needed to be taken to the hospital wimg after he was attacked by a hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatures, and when she slapped him across the face for calling their professor pathetic.

He thought about long baths in the prefects' bathroom and long nights slaving over the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement.

He thought about attending the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson and seeing Granger float gracefully across the dancefloor with Viktor Krum.

He thought about the look on her face the first time he called her a mudblood, when he believed he was supior to her. Then he thought about her riding on a broomstick alongside Potter and Weasley as they rescued him from the Fiend Fyre during the Battle of Hogwarts. That was the moment he was certain he'd been inferior to her all along.

If Granger's memory was still intact today, and she was able lay in bed reflecting on his and her past interactions, she would be disgusted, but she would also be able to rest easy knowing she had no choices to regret. Draco looked back and was disgusted with himself, and fairly sure that sleep would not come so easy with all the guilt and remorse that festered within him.

At 3AM, as Draco lay there still staring at his darkened ceiling, he had only one thought left swirling in his head; that perhaps the movie was a bad idea after all.


	9. chapter 9

It hadn't been all that long since he last saw his mother, but Draco was still looking forward to her visit on Saturday none the less.

In the absence of his father since the Battle of Hogwarts, she had been keeping Draco closer than ever. He imagined it was difficult for her to now be without her husband and son, and hoped building a relationship with her estranged sister was making this transition a bit easier.

His mother, being the reserved woman she was, never alluded to the fact that it bothered her when his father was away on missions, just as she never did when Draco was away at school, but he could always feel it in the way she held their hug a little longer, and by the frequency of which she stole glances of each of them at the dinner table, that she was happiest when they were safely at home and probably would have kept them both right there with her always if she'd had it her way.

It had been Draco who suggested living apart. He felt a tinge of guilt seeking some form of independence just as she was a becomong little more vocal about her desire to keep him close and safe.

Something about war made people more inclined to be honest about their needs.

Draco did not however think that expressing her emotions more openly had hindered his mother's strength in the least. If anything, she was stronger and more fierce than ever.

In contrast, Hermione Granger, or should he say Hera Gilmore, was starting to appear more defeated.

Draco knew only two things with certainty about the Hermione Granger from his school years at Hogwarts; she was a proud muggleborn, and she hated not knowing things.

Now, as Hera Gilmore, without her pride and without knowledge of her past, she was stripped of the essence that made her the person he remembered. Though faint traces of her personality shined through, Draco didn't know this girl any more than she knew herself.

The feeling this gave him in the pit of his stomach was inexplicable. Perhaps though, it was partly all that firewhiskey from the night before swimming around.

He locked away the bottle containing the last remaining drops of liquor that had been left out on the table overnight, and made tea and toast for breakfast. It had no taste.

He chewed and sipped idly as thoughts spiraled down through his aching head.

Should he cancel on Granger? Should he go for the sake of just seeing what happens? Should he pack up for a new location and just disappear? Should he obliviate her first so she didn't have to remember this version of Draco either?

The last thought made his toast turn on him, and he abandoned the last bites.

How had he become this entangled with the life of Hera Gilmore, and why was he so invested in her fate? Guilt, maybe? He hadn't forgotten, nor would he ever forget how he had treated her.

Did he feel the need to repay her, for coming back for him alongside Potter when the Room of Requirement was burning? After all, his father had told him once as a child that it was in bad taste to leave a debt unpaid, though Draco later learned his father had been referring to a Bone-Breaking jinx he had given his brother-in-law Rodolphus for making a lewd comment about Draco's mother.

He showered much longer than necessary, letting the hot water spill over him as he washed his face, his neck, and his body. He scrubbed harder than needed, as if cleansing the surface of his skin could purge the deep discontent from inside him.

Whatever the reason, Draco could not bring himself to cancel on Granger, so at a quarter to seven that evening, he drove to her house.

- _Hera's POV_ -

"Pythagoras, I don't know what it is you want," Hera said, running her hand over her forhead and back through her hair. "You've been fed, there's fresh water in your dish, I've just changed your litter yesterday."

The cat continued to whine, discontented, as he had all day.

"If you're still like this when I get home we may have to schedule an appointment with a professional veterinarian to make sure nothing is wrong."

Pythagoras gave her a piercing look, then left to sit in the front window by the door with his back to her.

"Honestly," she muttered. "Maybe I shouldn't go."

She was anxious enough about the evening ahead of her, now she would be fretting over her cat while she was gone. Was it too late to cancel? He was probably on his way by now. She could pretend to be ill, which would be fairly easy considering the way her stomach was fluttering with nerves.

No, she was just looking for an excuse to not go. They had been out together before, and this was just a movie. Pythagoras was probably just in a mood, maybe he was soaking up the tension she was radiating. She had read animals were susceptible to the feelings of humans around them.

At that moment, Pythagoras hissed at something outside the window, then came a light knock at the door.

There was no backing out now.

Hera smoothed her hair as she crossed the room, hesitating at the door long enough to take a deep breath before opening it.

Draco was dressed more casually than she had seen him, wearing denims, and a coal grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the fair skin and toned muscles of his forearms. He was impeccably neat and devilishly handsome, as always.

"Good evening, Hera," he said.

"Hi," she replied, hoping more words would come out, but none did.

"You look very nice," he added.

She bit her lip, aware the red would show on her cheeks.

"Thank you. Er, would you like to come in?"

She moved away from the door, allowing him to come inside.

"I wasn't sure how you felt about flowers," he said, taking his hand from behind his back, "so I brought you something else instead."

He took his arm from behind his back to reveal a gift bag.

Hera narrowed her eyes looking curiously from it to him.

She took the bag and peaked inside before reaching in to pull out it's contents.

"Chocolate Frogs?"

"Those are good, but these are my favorite," he said, reaching in to pull out something green on a stick labelled "Acid Pop."

"What are these?" Hera asked, pulling out a red and white striped box.

"Now those, you'll have to watch out for. They're a bit tricky. You never know what flavor you're going to get. Could be caramel, could be earwax. The odds always seem slightly stacked against you to be honest."

She smiled. "Where on Earth did you get these?"

"They're imported, I've got a good connection. I thought you might need them during the movie."

"We're not supposed to take our own snacks. The theatre relies on the concession profits, it makes up 61% of their total income. Only 29% comes from tickets sales and the other 10 is from advertising sponsorships."

She hoped it wasn't too obvious she had been up late reading about the history and marketing of movies theatres.

Draco raised his eyebrows, then a grin spread across his face and he laughed.

"You're quite right, that's my mistake. I suppose I misjudged you, as I'd had you pegged as a bit of a rule breaker."

Hera found this sentiment to be oddly flattering.

"Oh, alright," she said, opening her purse and dumping the candy into it, "as long as we still pay for popcorn and drinks."

"Of course. We're not monsters."

"I'm keeping these for later though," she said, leaving the red and white striped box on the table.

"Smart choice," he said, opening the front door for her.

"Bye, Pythagoras," she called, looking over to the front window, but the cat no longer sat there. "Oh, he must have-"

Something soft brushed passed her legs. Pythagoras ran out the front door and onto the sidewalk.

"Where are you going? Pythagoras!"

She hastily followed her cat, but he only went farther down the sidewalk.

"He's never done this! I don't know what's got into him today," Hera said, quickening her pace. "Pythagoras!"

"Wait here, I'll get him," Draco said.

"No it's fine, I should-"

But Draco was already ahead of her. Pythagoras was nearing the end of the block and Hera was afraid he would cross the street and get lost, but just as he reached the curb, the cat froze in his tracks, giving Draco time to get there and pick him up. It looked like Draco was talking quietly to him as he carried him back, maybe trying to sooth him.

"He's fine," Draco said as Pythagoras squirmed in his arms. "He's just a bit- Ah!"

Draco kept the cat tucked in one arm as he shook his other hand free. A couple drops of blood fell from it.

"Oh my goodness, he's scratched you! That's very, very bad Pythagoras!" Hera scolded, taking him from Draco.

"It's not his fault. They don't like to be cornered I imagine. Plus I'm a stranger. He probably doesn't trust me. Maybe he's just trying to protect you, isn't that right?"

Pythagoras looked at Draco.

"That's no excuse," Hera said as they got back inside. She closed the door and put cat down.

"You're lucky to have such a smart companion. Everyone needs someone to look out for them. I just hope he learns he can trust me over time," Draco said directly to Pythagoras, who slowly wagged his tail in contemplation.

"Well we still need to patch you up before we go."

"It's fine, I'll just-" Draco stopped. He had been reaching inside his pocket. "On second thought, I should clean it up."

"I've got a medical kit in here. Follow me."

She took him into the bathroom and turned on the tap.

"Give me your hand."

For a second he didn't move, but then he extended his injured hand.

She took it and placed it under the cold water which ran red for only a few seconds, it was not a deep wound.

"Some alcohol and a bandage should do," she said, taking the cap off a bottle. "This will sting."

Draco sucked in a breath, making a slight hissing sound.

"Sorry! That's the worst of it."

She patted his skin dry and stuck a bandage across it.

"There. How does that feel?"

"Much better," he said. "You're quite a healer."

"Oh, it's nothing," she said, holding his hand up to inspect her work as she closed the medicine cabinet.

It was then she caught their reflection in the mirror, and noticed something odd.

Whenever she was looking at Draco face to face, insecurity would creep up her neck. She loathed admitting it to herself, but something about him made her feel inferior. It wasn't even how he was always so impeccably dressed in expensive clothes compared to her second hand thrift finds, nor was his aristocratic features and perfect posture that exuded wealth and class.

It was that he seemed powerful in another way that she couldn't explain, in a way she was jealous of.

Looking at them side by side in the mirror however was strangely liberating. Seeing herself next to him, she didn't look lesser, she looked equal, powerful. Next to him, she recognized herself in a way she hadn't experienced before. In the mirror, it looked right.

"We should be going," Draco said, breaking her trance. She was still holding on to his hand.

"Yes, we should."

Together they walked back to the living room.

"No hard feelings, Pythagoras," Draco called to her cat as they went out the door.

"And no more shenanigans. You behave yourself."

"Do you suppose he understands us at all when we speak?" Draco asked.

"I'd like to think so."

"Yeah, me too."

- _Draco's POV_ -

A short line of people were filing into the theatre when they arrived. Draco opened the car door for Granger and offered his hand to help her out. She took it, running her thumb over the bandage. An expression of guilt flashed briefly on her face.

He thought she had done rather well on the wound without magic, and was just glad he'd caught himself before pulling his wand from his magically extended pocket.

"It doesn't hurt in the least," he assured her as they took their place in the line procession.

"I just don't know what got into him."

Draco knew what got into him. Hera may not remember their time together at school, but he had no doubt that the cat did, and Pythagoras as she called him was right not to trust Draco based on memories of his past behavior, but he hoped he could remedy somehow.

Draco was certain the cat's escape was intended to prevent Granger from leaving with him. It probably would have worked had Draco not caught him. This scratch was repayment for that Immobulus jinx he'd cast in order to get him. Draco had apologized to the cat and assured him he meant no harm, to him or Granger. Whether or not the cat believed him was to be determined.

"What one should we see?" she asked, looking at the wall where photos framed by lights advertised each different film.

"You choose," Draco said.

She bit her lip in concentration as her eyes thoroughly scanned each display.

"This one looks rather good, it's labeled as a comedy," she gestured to one titled "Moon Drunk". The image, to Draco's discomfort, remained stationary. He would never get used to that. It showed a two people, a pretty girl and a furry faced creature in human clothing laughing and drinking under a big, full moon.

"Then that's the one."

"Two?" a man asked from behind a pane of glass with the word "tickets" embossed on it.

"Yes, thank you," Draco said, sliding muggle money through the opening at the bottom.

Inside the theatre, the air was thick with a buttery scent. He remembered his promise of popcorn. Luckily Draco had done some research of his own about theatres, so he knew a little of what to expect.

"What would you like?"

"Mmmm, definitely popcorn. We can just get one big one, if you don't mind sharing. But if you'd rather have your own.."

Draco remembered his behavior when she had offered him a taste of her dessert.

"We'll have one large popcorn," he said the concession worker.

"And drinks!" Granger added enthusiastically. "I want my own though, I'm parched."

Draco couldn't resist grinning.

The concession worker, a boy who looked only a year or two younger than them despite his broad build, eyed Granger as he passed them their order.

"Here's your cups, you fill them over there at that drink station. There's extra butter and salt for your popcorn here," he pointed.

"I'll butter it. I read about a method to get the perfect ratio of topping to popcorn."

"Then I'll get the drinks," Draco said, taking the cups.

As he tried to figure out how to get the drinks from the contraption, succeeding only after watching another patron master it, Draco overheard the concession worker.

"Can I offer you any sweets, miss?"

"Oh, no. Thank you," he heard Granger reply.

"Ah a pretty girl like you probably doesn't need any more sweeting up, eh?'

"It's not that, really."

Draco grabbed the cups and headed back.

"You sure there's nothing I can offer you?"

"Not a single thing, I assure you," Draco interjected. "She's taken care of."

Her mouth twitched in a near smile.

"Oh, we need straws, I'll get them," she said, heading toward the drink machine.

The worker scowled at him.

"Pathetic," Draco said, delivering his best smirk. "Next time, try making a pass at a girl who didn't come with someone, mate. Maybe you'll have better luck."

He could feel the boy glaring at him as he walked away. It was highly satisfying.

"Shall we?" he asked Hera, offering his arm which she took.

This added to the satisfaction so much he couldn't help but look back over his shoulder at the boy to make sure he saw it. He did.

Draco couldn't blame the poor bloke. There was no denying Granger was nice to look at. Her hair was loose with thick curls falling over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a black long-sleeved blouse that was tucked into her form fitting denims. It accentuated her soft curves in a way that was difficult to not notice.

They found seats near the back. Granger told him she'd read the best seats were toward the back and in the center of the row. Just as they settled in, the lights dimmed.

Minutes into the movie, Draco had to admit it was honestly quite impressive that muggles were able to create something like movies without magic. Almost as if she had read his mind, Granger began telling him about "movie magic," and different methods that were used to reach desired effects.

Listening to her whisper memorized facts for minutes on end reminded him of sitting behind her in classes at Hogwarts, when she would talk quietly to herself as she worked, or hiss instructions to assist the person next to her.

After a while she got quiet. Occasionally they bumped knuckles reaching into the bucket for popcorn. Draco stole glances of her while her eyes were fixated on the screen. He wasn't sure what was more entertaining, watching the movie, or watching her watch the movie.

She laughed a the funnier parts, and jumped once when the "werewolf", who the movie was centered around, crashed through the door, then laughed again when it was afraid of the family dog. She smiled when the werewolf and the girl he was in love with slowdanced by the lake. She shifted uncomfortably when a couple seated in front of them started snogging.

At some point she remembered the candy stashed in her purse and pulled out a Chocolate Frog for each of them. Draco had removed the jumping spell before gifting them to her, but she didn't seemed at all disappointed in their immobility. She made a light "mmm" sound as she ate it, and licked the chocolate from her fingers when it was gone.

She commented on the "trading card" and said children in the library often came in with something similiar called "Pokie Mon" cards, but that she liked this kind much better. The card was a member of the Weird Sisters and Draco doubted if she would know them even if her memory was in tact.

She asked to see who Draco got, and stunned him by saying she'd read about Merlin. The thing was she knew of him the same way she knew of the werewolf, as a make believe character and not real beings.

"Chocolate frogs are my new favorite thing," she said when the movie ended and the lights came back on. "The Fizzing Whizbees are good to though."

"Maybe next time you'll be brave enough to try an Acid Pop," he teased.

She stopped so abruptly the people exiting the theatre behind her almost collided.

"I'm not afraid," she said.

"Oh? Would you care for one now then?"

She reached in her bag without breaking eye contact and pulled one out.

"Go on then," he said.

She looked at it for a second.

"Actually, I'm quite full."

"I see," Draco said, "you don't mind if I have it then?"

She handed it over looking slightly relieved. Draco popped it in his mouth.

"Mmm, delightful. Definitely not for the faint of heart though. It may even say 'not for children' right on the label."

"Is that so?"

Ah, he had stirred the Gryffindor in her, just as expected.

What he didn't expect was for her to grab the stick and steal it from his mouth before putting it into her own.

"Yum," she said around the mouthfull, though it did not match the sour look on her face.

She extracted it with a popping sound and licked her lip.

"My tongue is a little numb, though. Is that normal?

Draco was momentarily stunned by her antics before he succumbed to laughter.

She laughed, too, but did not put the Acid Pop back in her mouth.

I really don't think I'll finish this though," she said, reaching for the waste bin.

"Oh no, it's too good to waste. I'll have it back, please."

A line appeared between her eyebrows. She looked to be assessing whether he was joking or not.

He took it out of her hand and put it back in his own mouth.

He didn't know what he expected to happen, but when nothing did, he suddenly realized in that moment a large portion of his life had been wasted standing for something he'd never really understood to begin with. It was difficult to swallow.

"I'm glad we didn't buy the candy from here," she said, clearly experiencing a very different moment than him.

He smiled. "Feels good to break the rules, doesn't it?"

"Just a little. I can't wait to try the Bertie Bott's Beans."

"Do let me know what you think of them," he said as he started to walk again.

"No!" she stopped him by the arm. "I mean, I don't want to try them without you."

The way she looked right into his eyes when she said it gave Draco a slight tingling sensation in his stomach unrelated to the Acid Pop. It was a feeling that he vaguely remembered from a different life or maybe a dream. One of want and excitement and eagerness, a feeling that had been absent so long he'd almost forgotten it was real.

He slid one arm around her waist as they continued the walk back to his car.

It felt good to break the rules, indeed.

 ** _A/N_**

 ** _I had a lot of fun writing this installment, so I hope you had fun reading it. I think it's safe to say Pythagoras is definitely trying to sabotage our pair's time together, he just can't help but be protective. As "Hera" is getting reacquainted with some elements from her old life, thanks to Draco, he is becoming more familiar with the muggle world.They have a lot to teach eachother, and a lot still to learn. Wonder if Draco will confide in his mother what he's been up to when she visits. We'll see!_**


	10. chapter 10

Hera sat waiting for Ms. Ellerbee at their usual café, indoors this time, as she had just barely made it in before the downpour. She watched raindrops cascade down the window while absentmindedly stirring her tea.

She knew Ms. Ellerbee was going to ask the usual questions. How was your week? Have you been feeling well? Any trouble sleeping, increased depression, or strange thoughts? Has anything out of the ordinary happened? She could here her voice already, poised and polite in a way that almost disguised the thorough routine that was Hera's weekly check up. A thinly veiled therapy session.

Hera didn't yet know whether or not she would tell Ms. Ellerbee about Draco. She wouldn't know how to explain what they were because she didn't even know what they were. To say they were dating didn't seem fitting, and even saying they were friends felt a little odd. The thought of admitting out loud the way he made her feel was unbearable. Perhaps it would be best to not mention him at all.

A tinkling bell and the sound of rain let her know the door opened. Ms. Ellerbee was closing an umbrella and shaking stray raindrops from her hands. She spotted Hera easily and made her way to the corner table where she sat waiting.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Gilmore." She had been very compliant in using the name Hera had selected for herself. "I apologize for my tardiness. Usually I pride myself on punctuality."

"I didn't even notice the time," Hera said truthfully.

The waitress appeared to take their order once she was seated. Hera wasn't very hungry, but she ordered a small meal anyway as to not raise unnecessary questions about her appetite.

"How was your week?" Ms. Ellerbee asked after the waitress left, taking out her leatherbound notebook.

"It's been fine," Hera replied.

"Would you mind telling me about it?"

"Well, work is going well. I'm still very pleased with my placement at the library. I did lose my assistant, but that's honestly not much of a loss. My cat was acting up a bit, but I think he is still just getting used to things, as am I."

Ms. Ellerbee penned a couple notes, smiling in a way that was meant to encourage Hera to continue.

"I've read a couple good books, though they were both rather short."

"What were the books about?"

"Oh, well, one was a book of poems published in the 1800s, and the other was a historical book about theatres."

"What prompted you to select those particular books?"

Hera paused to sip her tea.

"Well, the poetry I selected at random. The one about theatres just seemed rather interesting."

Ms. Ellerbee wrote something in her notebook then waited. Hera felt obligated to continue.

"I went to a theatre, actually."

"Did you? And what did you think?"

"It was rather entertaining, I might even like to go again sometime."

"What was the movie about?"

"It was silly, really. It was a comedy but also a love story about a girl and a werewolf."

Ms. Ellerbee stopped writing and looked up.

"That sounds like quite a tale."

Hera shrugged and took another sip of tea, hoping not to be asked whether or not she went alone.

"Did the experience stir any memories for you or was there anything familiar about it?"

"Not really. I don't know if I've ever been to a movie before, but I certainly enjoyed it this time."

The waitress showed up with their food, and Hera was grateful for the interruption.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Ms. Ellerbee started to offer some casual questions in between bites, like if she had discovered any new favorite hobbies or foods. She asked about her routines. She asked how she had been sleeping to which Hera responded about the same as always. Ms. Ellerbee was aware from previous interviews that some nights sleep came easier than others, so Hera didn't feel the need to mention that now when she couldn't sleep it was because she was thinking about Draco in addition to questions about her memory loss.

"Do you feel any significance to recent dreams or are you still not recalling them when you wake?"

"Only small details, sometimes, but nothing that feels significant."

"Have you come across anything new, objects, places, people, or words that trigger a sense of familiarity?"

Hera chewed slowly to bide her time before answering.

"Besides my cat, there hasn't really been anything else."

"And what does your cat make you feel?"

"Well, it's not that I can remember ever having a cat, it's just a feeling that I did. Having him around and taking care of him comes naturally."

"I see," she jotted down a few more words.

Hera could never quite read Ms. Ellerbee. Her demeanor was impassive, and despite her sharp features, her expressions were soft. Her dark eyes were impenetrable yet sympathetic. She was kind and intimidating all at the same time.

"If there's nothing else you feel worthy of mentioning," Ms. Ellerbee paused for a few seconds, but Hera offered nothing, "then take this opportunity to ask me any questions you might have."

Hera bit her lip. She was always full of questions, but only one came to mind at the moment.

"Am I'm doing okay?"

Out loud it sounded childish to her ears, but Ms. Ellerbee showed no signs of mockery.

"I believe you are doing exceptionally well, far better than most would under such circumstances."

"Do you think I will ever get better?" Hera asked before she could stop herself.

"I wish I could assure you that you will one day be as you once were, but I am not a medical expert and unfortunately that leaves me grossly underqualified to answer your question fairly."

Hera appreciated her honesty, as it was not false hope she was seeking, but it still didn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"However, in my personal opinion," Ms. Ellerbee continued, "I think you are a bright, strong-willed and otherwise healthy young woman who has adapted and thrived to this new life despite it's obstacles, and I believe you will be up to facing whatever the future holds, whether it as your former or current self."

This sentiment alleviated some of the anguish that was ever present in the back of Hera's mind. She smiled as Ms. Ellerbee, but was spared having to respond as the waitress returned with their bill.

"This month's doctor's appointment will be a week from Wednesday at 10:00, so do make arrangements with your employer if needed. Also, your next home visit is scheduled for the second Saturday in October in place of our usual lunch meeting."

Ms. Ellerbee counted money to pay the bill as she always did, though Hera still pulled out her own wallet anyway.

"Please, let me-" she began, but Ms. Ellerbee gave her a look that told her not to bother trying.

Hera went to close her wallet, but some of it's contents fell onto the table. She scooped up the coins, then reached for chocolate frog card. Ms. Ellerbee looked at it curiously.

"That's interesting, may I ask what it is?"

"Oh, it's just a silly trading card thing that children collect," Hera said, tucking it back into her wallet.

"I see. Have you taken up collecting them as well?"

"No, I just found it," Hera lied, without really knowing why, "at the library. In the lost and found I mean. No one claimed it but I couldn't bare to toss it incase the child who lost it came looking eventually."

Ms. Ellerbee poised her pen for a second, then set it down and closed her notebook.

"Well then, if there's nothing else, I think that concludes our time until next week. As always, you have my number should you need anything between now and then."

She stood up and pulled on her long, black jacket. Hera stood also, gathering her raincoat and bag before following her to the door.

"Thank you, Ms. Ellerbee."

She nodded. "Good day, Ms. Gilmore," and with a pop of her umbrella, she disappeared into the rain.

 _-Draco POV-_

It had just stared drizzling when Draco heard a light knock on his door. He put down the tea cups he'd pulled from the cabinet and went to the door expecting to see his mother, which he did, but what he didn't expect was to see his mother holding a small child. To top it off, the child had bright blue hair.

"Draco," she smiled warmly.

"Mother," he said, still staring at boy in her arms.

"May we come in?"

"Of course, please."

He stepped aside. His mother held out her bag for him to take. It was unusually heavy. Draco couldn't remember her ever carrying a bag before. She leaned in to kiss his cheek. The blue-haired boy eyed him curiously.

"Draco, this is Andromeda's grandson and your first cousin once removed, Edward. We call him Teddy. Andromeda's usual sitter was ill so I brought him with me."

The casual manner in which she spoke momentarily unnerved Draco. " _We"?_ His mother had hardly ever acknowledged that she even had another sister, nor the muggle man whom Andromeda married, and she definitely never mentioned the child they shared.

Draco knew he had a cousin named Nymphadora, though he had only ever caught a glimpse of her. The memory was not a pleasant one either. The first and last time he saw her was during the Battle of Hogwarts. She stood alongside her husband, Draco's former professor and known werewolf, Remus Lupin. That was how he knew it was her, because he'd once overheard his Aunt Bellatrix talking about the "wolfman vermin she mated with".

Both Nymphadora and Lupin died in battle that night, and Draco had tucked away the strange sense of loss for family he had never known along with all the other grievances from that night.

Now after all this time, his mother was referring to herself and her sister as "we" and voluntarily babysitting?

"Well," a small voice in his head reasoned, "perhaps you shouldn't judge considering the amount of time you've willingly spent with Granger as of late."

True.

"You look well," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"I have, yes. Everything has been fine. I rather like it here, I think.

"I'm happy to hear so. I've been worried about you."

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Are things going well for you at Andromeda's?"

"Very well, actually. She and I have been spending a lot of time catching up. I once would have believed it impossible for us to ever make amends, but I think this has been very good for both of us."

The idea that his mother had found some peace, at least in one aspect of her life, gave him hope. For so long she had lived a life that was vastly different from the one she probably would have chosen for herself. His mother had always stood firmly behind his father without going against his decisions, but Draco knew she never wanted this. Perhaps one day with the war behind them and her family together she could be happy once more.

He offered her a chair in the sitting room and fetched the tea tray from the kitchen.

"Er, should I get him something?" Draco asked, looking at the small boy in her lap.

"No, I have everything he needs in my bag."

The boy reached up and tugged at the emerald pendant around her neck. She gently took his hand and he wrapped his tiny fingers around her thumb instead.

Up until this moment, Draco had never actually seen his mother interact with a child. He never imagined her as someone who liked babies, with the exception of himself of course. As her only son, it felt normal to be on the receiving end of her affection but incredibly odd, surreal almost, to see her tenderness with this child, especially considering he was the product of a half-blood and a werewolf.

"I do have some things for you as well, if you would hand that bag to me" she said, lifting Teddy from her lap and standing him on his little feet.

She took the bag and she started pulling things from it, some things much larger than the bag itself. Apparently Draco wasn't the only one putting the expanding charm to use.

"Ah-ull," the boy said in his small voice as he watched her removing things. "Ah-ull!"

"Here you go," she said, handing him a cup with a spouted lid.

He took it and drank as he looked around the room with wide, curious eyes.

"Apple juice is his favorite, just like yours was at that age."

Draco didn't know what to make of the comparison.

"These are for you," she said, passing him a thick stack of Daily Prophets, then a velvet pouch, and a small black box. "I think it's important for you to keep up with the news, of course having owls sent here daily would look too suspicious or I would send Andromeda's used copies to you that way."

Draco glanced at the headlines on the topmost copy in the stack which was dated two weeks prior. _"No New Information Regarding Potter's Whereabouts, But We Wouldn't Tell If We Knew Anyway."_ Obviously Potter supporters had regained control of the Prophet after the Battle of Hogwarts.

He set the stack of papers beside him and opened the velvet pouch.

"Muggle currency," his mother said, "incase you were running low. Andromeda has been helping me convert our fortune as needed."

"I actually did make a rather large purchase recently," Draco said.

"Yes, I saw it parked outside. Andromeda told me about how much she used to enjoy when Ted would take her on weekend drives through the countryside. Perhaps one day you can take me on a drive so I can see what the fuss is about."

If Draco didn't know better, he wouldn't believe this was actually his mother sitting before him. It was true, he supposed, that war changed people, but the tranformation she had made after a few weeks with Andromeda was unbelievable.

Maybe had it not been for the fact that the rest of the world believed Granger to be dead, he would have told his mother about her after all. Maybe he still would in time, if he ever got the mess sorted out. In the mean time, hopefully Granger didn't come knocking on his door while his mother was still here. That would be difficult to explain.

The juice cup slipped from Teddy's small hands. She picked it up and tried handing it back to him, but he was no longer interested. Instead he walked in wobbly steps up to Draco, who stiffened a bit when the child climbed onto the sofa beside him.

"He taken to you very quickly," Draco's mother said. "It took a day or two before he allowed me to even hold him."

The boy teetered on the edge, swinging his feet which were no near reaching the floor.

"He is very perceptive for his age, and always into something. He reminds me so much of you, sometimes."

Unsure how to respond to that, Draco instead picked up the small black box and opened it.

"What's this?"

"That belonged to your grandfather. He left it to your father when he died."

Draco removed the heavy, silver pocketwatch, suspending it by the chain. Teddy watched it swing, transfixed on the movement. Draco was reminded absurdly of a time in Divination when Professor Trelawny had tried to hypnotize Theodore Nott, which produced hilarious results as he played along, croaking like a toad then pretending to have no memory of it after.

"It's a unique timepiece," she continued, "one half of a set. It tells time, like a normal watch, but if the face glows green, it means the possessor of the other half is in immediate danger. This is the other half," she said, reaching for the emerald pendant around her neck. "In turn, I can open this locket at any time, and if it glows green, I would know my other half is in danger."

Draco opened the watch. The face of the clock was black and so shiny it was almost mirrored. In place of numbers were twelve small emeralds. It ticked delicately with each passing second.

'Your father wasn't happy when I told him that you and I were no longer living under the same roof. It was difficult to explain the benefits of the Fidelius charm to him by mail without giving too much away for fear it might be intercepted. I think he understood at last though, as he sent this to me right after."

"Why didn't he keep it?" Draco asked.

She took a sip of her tea, and kept her eyes fixed on her lap when she answered.

"Your father is unsure if it will ever be safe for him to return, or if he will survive until it is. He has no side to return to since the Death Eaters dismantled. The survivors continue to live in fear of the reprocussions of their abandonment. Your father is too proud to go to the the remaining Order of the Phoenix members for protection. I think he wanted to pass it down to you now, just in case."

She looked back up at him, and though her eyes remained dry, he could see the loss in them.

"Keep it with you always, Draco" she said.

He closed the empty box and tucked the watch into his pocket.

He was almost startled at the touch of a small hand on his arm. He looked to the boy sitting next to him who was staring up with bright blue eyes that matched his hair. Once he knew he had Draco's attention, Teddy closed his eyes tight and wrinkled his nose. His blue hair began to fade until it was a shade nearly identical to Draco's blonde.

"He gets that from his mother," she said. "I think it means he likes you."

For a while they chatted and caught up on the past weeks, though Draco was careful to keep things vague. Teddy amused himself and them by playing a solitary version of hide and seek in which he hid himself behind the curtains but would somehow emerge from under the table cloth. They stayed long enough for his mother to finish a third cup of tea, but then insisted they needed to get back before it was time for Teddy's nap.

Draco carried her bag, which was significantly lighter now, to the door while she carried Teddy.

"If only it wasn't so dangerous to connect to the Floo Network, visiting would be much easier." she said, taking the bag from him.

"I can lower the wards long enough for you to apparate from inside."

"Never lower the wards, Draco." She cupped his chin and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Is their anything else, before I go?"

Her eyes searched his in the same familiar way they always had when she suspected he was keeping secrets. Perhaps he'd been too vague with details about their time apart. He should have known better, she never missed anything.

"No, Mother, but I'm happy you visited. I've missed you," he said.

"I'm never far away, darling," she said, stepping outside. "Wave goodbye, Teddy."

Teddy's head was resting on her shoulder and his eyes were nearly closed, but he lifted a tiny hand a batted it twice in Draco's direction.

Draco nodded in return and closed the door, letting out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding.

He gathered the stack of Daily Prophets and took them to the kitchen where he sat down by the window and looked out toward the library, wondering what Granger was doing. He was curious about lunch with her "grandmother", whoever that really was. Probably a muggle doctor or someone required to check up on her condition. It was just one more thing he wondered how long she would try to hide from him.

With nothing else to do for the day. He sat reading through the Prophets. His mind would wander occasionally, mostly to thoughts of Granger, but also to his parents. What his mother had said about his father was sitting heavily.

Draco already knew that his father would not return to them as long as he thought it put them in danger, and he knew already knew their was no side for his father to turn to, but seeing the look on his mothers face and thinking about his father hiding alone somewhere in the world, losing hope, was cutting deeply into Draco's heart.

Trying to not think about what it would be like to never see his father again, Draco continued reading.

Mostly is was assorted stories about nonsensical things. Rita Skeeter was still regularly submitting stories somehow. There were some reports about "sightings" or "known whereabouts" regarding Voldemort, but Draco knew they were mostly rubbish. Wherever he was, he wouldn't be found unless he wanted to be.

Draco finally made it to the last paper, dated today, just as dusk approached. The headline wasn't anything interesting, but a smaller article below caught his eye.

 _"Remembering A Fallen Heroin: Celebrating The Life Of Hermione Granger As Her Birthday Approaches Tomorrow"_

 ** _A/N_**

 ** _Hello darlings! I hope the guest stars made up for the fact that our pair didn't get any time together this chapter. No worries though, they will be back together the next day. I mean, it is her birthday after all. ;)_**


	11. chapter 11

- _Hera's POV-_

The pantry was nearly empty, and the fridge was not much better. Hera used the last pieces of bread for toast, and the last bit of jam from the jar. She jotted items down on a slip of paper and stuck it to the fridge with a magnent knowing she would have to run to the market before lunch. It looked like rain so perhaps she should take a cab home so her paper bags didn't get wet.

Hera took her tea back to the bedroom. Her fluffy blankets and stack of books looked inviting but she needed to dress if she was going to shop. She hadn't yet selected anything from the closet when came a knock.

Who would be knocking at her door, especially first thing on a Sunday morning? She bit her lip, giving herself a quick glance in the mirror. Her hair was wild but at least these pajamas didn't have holes in them. Rather than pretend to not be home, she walked to the front door and tiptoed to look out the peephole.

Draco was standing there with his hands behind his back. How odd for him to drop by unnannounced, especially this early. Now she really wished she would've dressed sooner. She tried to smooth her hair down before she opening the door.

"Draco?"

"Good morning," he said.

Though he tried to be discreet, she noticed his eyes give her a quick glance up and down. She knew she was a mess, but it was early, and her day off no less. How was it he always looked so put together?

"What are you doing out and about at this hour?" Hera asked.

"I had an early engagment that got cancelled last minute."

"On a Sunday?"

"It was an informal appointment. Is this a bad time?"

"Well, no. It's just, I was about to go out for some groceries, that's all. Did you need something?"

He paused for a second.

"Yes."

"Oh," Hera said, surprised. "Well, what is it?"

"I need to know what you would like to do today."

"Well I.. like I said, I was just planning on going to the market, that's really-"

"No, I mean what would you _really_ like to do today? If you could spend it doing anything, what would make you happy?"

Hera stopped to consider his odd, yet thoughtful question. What would make her happy? Automatically, she wondered what might have made her happy in the past. How would the girl she used to be spend a perfect Sunday? Wishing she could remember, even just a little, of who she was before, she was struck with a sudden inspiration.

"I would like to cook dinner at home and rent a video."

"That's it?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

Feeling suddenly self conscious about expressing her desire, she shrugged a shoulder in response.

"Then that's what we're doing."

"But-"

Hera tried to think of a reason to object, a reason more substantial and polite then pointing out how strange his abruptness was, but nothing at all came to mind.

"Well, alright," she said at last, "but I still must go to the store, my kitchen is bloody baron"

"Pardon?"

"I'm out of everything."

"Ah, right. I just misheard. Would it be an imposition if I accompany you? I'm out of a few necessities myself."

"Er, no, not at all."

"Then I'll drive. It's the least I can do after inviting myself along. Besides, it looks like rain."

"That would be fine. I just need to get ready. You can wait in the sitting room if you like."

"Perfect, but where can I put this?" Draco asked, holding out a small, white box.

He opened the lid to reveal a little round cake, frosted with fluffy vanilla cremé.

"What's this for?" Hera asked.

"When my engagement was cancelled, I went to the bakery to grab a scone for breakfast, but somehow left with this instead. Red velvet, couldn't resist."

He closed the box and handed it to her. Hera placed it on the table and offered him a seat before excusing herself.

When she returned a few minutes later, Draco was still sitting where she left him, but Pythagoras was now positioned directly across from him, still as a statue. They appeared to be having a stare-off.

"Perhaps I've insulted your cat by not offering him any cake?" Draco suggested.

Hera scooped up her pet.

"Pythagoras, you know it's bad manners to sit on the table."

The cat looked at her with reproachful eyes.

"So you've never had any pets?"

"Actually, I used to have a- a bird."

"A bird?"

"Yes, a bird. He liked to go out at night to explore, but he always returned, and usually with home small rodents much to the displeasure of my mother. He, however, was much more fond of me than your cat is."

Pythagoras looked at Draco from his new spot on the floor and showed no signs of disagreeing.

"Right, well, I'm all ready to go."

"First decide what you want to cook that way we're sure to get everything we need from the market."

"I don't know exactly what I want, but I've got a recipe book from the library we could refer to."

A stack of books sat on the end of the kitchen counter. She pulled out the one she was looking for and opened it, skimming pages.

"Do you prefer chicken or beef, or something else? There's loads to choose from. There's seafood, vegan, Asian cuisine.."

"I want you to choose. What do you like the best?"

"Well, I love Italian. Pizza, pastas.. Lasagna could be good, or maybe spaghetti? Ooh with meatballs!"

"You're not very difficult to please, are you?"

"Not overly, no."

Draco drove them to the market. He followed Hera as she read her list and crossed aisles, gathering all the basics. She tossed bread, milk, eggs, cheese, butter, jam, oatmeal, crisps, biscuits, fruit and cat food all into the trolley. She also gathered ingredients for dinner from a separate list she'd copied from the recipe book, plus a fresh baguette from the bakery.

They reached the last aisle, where things were kept frozen.

"What about that?" Draco asked, pointing to an array of ice cream. "You know, to compliment the cake."

"Hmm," she tapped her chin with her pen and refered to the paper in her hand, "that's not on the list."

Draco read it over her shoulder.

"I see," he said. "May I borrow your pencil?"

Hera gave it to him. He reached over and scrawled "ice cream" at the bottom of the list.

"There, now it is."

He smirked, and Hera couldn't resist grinning.

"Fine," she said, "but we're getting strawberry, it's my favorite."

She opened the door to retrieve it, but froze. It _was_ her favorite. In fact, she knew with certainty that it had always been her favorite. A dim image flickered in her mind, of sitting next to a window in bright afternoon sunlight with a book in her lap and a bowl of melting strawberry icecream.

"Hera?" Draco called.

She realized she hadn't moved and must look bizzar, with her hand outstretched in midair.

"I was just wondering whether or not you liked strawberry," she recovered quickly.

"I do, in fact."

"Excellent," she said, grabbing it and tossing it in with the rest of her selections. "Shall we finish up then?"

"I think so."

"Wait, what was it you needed from here?"

"Oh," Draco paused, looking around, "I needed some flowers."

"Flour?"

"Flowers."

"Flowers?"

"Yes, flowers. Have you heard of them? Ugly little buggers that sprout up from the dirt."

He gestured toward the floral section ahead of them.

Hera rolled her eyes. "What sort of flowers?"

"I don't know, what kind do you reccomend?"

Hera laughed. "I'm not much of an expert. Though I did read a book once- "

"Of course you did," Draco interuppted, grinning.

"Fine, if you don't want my help."

"What I _want_ is for you to tell me your favorite flower."

"Sunflowers." Hera said.

It came out so quickly she hadn't realized the thought had even entered her mind, yet just like with the ice cream, she knew with certainty it was genuine.

Another fleeting vision came to her, one of a field of yellow flowers stretching higher and farther than she could see. It had been the first time she'd ever seen them outside of a book.

In the excitement of the vision, she hadn't immediately noticed Draco had walked away. He had his back to her and was looking over an array of flowers.

"You won't find any sunflowers there. They're not a native flower and typically aren't grown in this-"

Before she could finish, Draco turned around with an arm full of sunflowers.

"Alright, this was all I needed," he said.

Surprised, Hera watched as he walked to the check out line. She followed him in a sort of daze, unable to think about anything other than the possibility that she was beginning to get her memory back.

Absent mindedly, she loaded her items onto the counter. She was so lost in thought she didn't hear the clerk read her the total, but was pulling money from her wallet anyway when Draco handed over the amount.

"Draco!" Hera said, snapping back into the moment. "I've got my own money!"

"That's nice," he said, tucking his wallet into his pocket.

"You can't just pay for my things."

"Actually I just did."

"But-"

"'Excuse me dear," a tiny old woman in line behind her said, "but when I was your age, if a dashing young man picked up the tab for me, I'd be flattered."

Draco beamed with smugness, visibly enjoying the fact Hera was outnumbered. The woman began unloading an alarming amount of canned pumpkin onto the counter.

"He's a keeper, honey."

"Seeker, actually," Draco said.

Hera raised an eyebrow.

"What? You've never heard that joke?"

"Oh and he's funny, too!" The woman batted her wrinkled eyelids.

"She thinks I'm dashing _and_ funny," Draco teased as he carried the bags to the car.

"I think you've got a good chance with her," Hera said, sniffing the Sunflowers which was all he allowed her to carry.

"A bit young for me though, don't you think?"

"Maybe a smidge."

"Anyway, I'm rather hungry," Draco said, "seeing as I was too distracted by that cake to get breakfast."

"I'm a bit hungry, too" Hera said, recalling her pitiful toast from earlier. "It's still a bit early for lunch, but we could do brunch."

"Brunch?"

"Yes, the meal between breakfast and lunch."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense."

"We'll have to take the groceries home first, so the ice cream doesn't melt."

"We could keep them at my place, till after we eat. It's closer."

Hera considered this. "I think that would be alright."

Draco changed direction and they were at his house in a minute.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Er, I could, yes."

Hera followed him to the door and inside.

She had given some thought to what Draco's home might look like. Honestly, it was much more modest than she'd expected, but impecibly neat. The furniture he owned did look rather old, but well kept and probably very expensive. Rare antiques, family heirlooms perhaps.

He went to the kitchen to store the cold items, and Hera took advantage by reading the titles of the dozen or so books on his shelf. Some were obscure and nothing she'd heard of. She made a mental reminder to look one up when she went back to work tomorrow. "" _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find_ _Them_ by Newt Scamander

"I should've known you'd find the books."

She jumped slightly, retracting her hand. Draco stood in the doorway holding the sunflowers which he had put in an ornate vase.

"Typical librarian, all work," he said.

"I can't help myself."

"You have to take these," he said, nodding to the flowers.

"What? Why?"

"They clash with my walls."

"Your walls are white."

"Exactly."

"Well my walls are white as well."

"No, they're off-white. Completely different. You have to take them."

"Fine, I'll gather them up when we return for the groceries."

"Splendid. Now tell me, where do you suggest we find _brunch,"_ he emphasized the word with only a hint of mockery.

Hera felt heat creep up her cheeks. "Well, the Happy Pot was rather good, and I remember seeing a brunch special on the menu when we were there."

"That settles it then. Let's go."

 _-Draco's POV-_

Granger seemed a bit distracted all through their meal, just as she had at the market. Draco couldn't tell if she was or wasn't enjoying her day so far. He suggested a walk around the duck pond afterward. As they strolled, he tried to keep the conversation going, but she again seemed lost in thought. She stared out her window on the ride back to his place.

"Are you feeling alright?" Draco asked at last.

"What? Sorry, yes, I feel fine actually. It's just, I've had some things on my mind today. I just remembered-"

She stopped, and Draco waited. What could she possibly have remembered?

"That we have to stop at the video store," she finished. "There's one near the pet store. Do you know where that is?"

"I do," he said.

Despite making it clear he indeed knew the way, she still directed as he drove. Happy she was engaging, he did not stop her. Once there, they searched for a movie. Draco had no idea how to select one, so he left it up to Granger. She wandered around, picking one up then putting it back again, and asking for Draco's input. She pursed her lips when he told her it was entirely up to her. Finally she decided on a comedy that was on display under the new features.

Upon arriving back home, a thought came to mind.

"What if I cook for you here?" Draco asked.

At first, Hera looked rather unsure at the idea, but surprised him when she nodded.

"That would be lovely, if you're sure you want to. I didn't know you liked to cook."

"It's just following recipes and combining ingredients. What's not to like?"

"Do you also have a video player for us to watch the movie on? I don't remember seeing a television even," she added.

She was right, Draco had no television or whatever a video player was, but he could obtain them easily enough.

"Yes, I do," he lied.

"Well then, I'll need to go home and check on Pythagoras if I'm going to be spending the evening here."

"I'll drive you," Draco offered, but she insisted on walking since the rain had passed.

She took the bag of cat food from the market, but left the rest of her groceries and the sunflowers behind for the time being, and assured Draco she would return in a couple hours.

He knew she was tense, but he wasn't sure exactly what was going on with her. He imagined some days were worse than others for her, in regards to her memory loss.

He had found some chapters in one of the books from his shelf with information on obliviation spells. There was a lot that could go wrong when casting a memory spell, and he wondered how bad Potter could have botched it up.

In some cases, the spell had been performed so forcefully that the memory loss was permanent and irreversible. Sometimes, negligent spell casting caused so much of the memory to be wiped that the person had to be taught basic human functions all over again. Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case with Granger.

The only ways for the curse to be lifted was for the original caster to lift it themselves, or if the caster died without putting a permanent sticking charm in place. One study reported rare cases in which a few determined wizards had broke through the spell on their own. It was suspected but unproven that they had defended themselves with Occlumency during the initial spell.

Draco tried to imagine what it would be like to not have his memories. Honestly, their were many he could stand to live without. In fact, some he would give anything to forget. Somehow though, he doubted Granger would feel the same. She never would have chosen this.

There was really no good way for this to end. If Granger remained like this forever, she would always be a shell of who she once was, lost and confused of how she came to be. If she regained her memories, the first thing she would probably do was kill Draco for his actions, and he could hardly blame her. The second thing she would probably do? Kill Potter for placing her in such a predicament in the first place.

Draco wasn't sure why he kept this going, or how long it could go on without something disasterous happening, but he wasn't sure how to even get out of it now. For selfish reasons, he wished deep down that it could stay like this. He liked Granger's company, something he never dreamed of admitting. He also liked not being entangled in the mess of the wizarding world, let alone the society he had been born into. This way of life felt normal in the most abnormal way.

With some time to kill before Granger returned, Draco began readying a space for their dinner and movie. She may not know it was her birthday, and she may not have asked for much, but Draco was still determined to make it special.

He was heating up the stove when she knocked on his door. She had changed her clothes and was now wearing a red cardigan with gold buttons, a coincidence which mildly amused Draco, and the same tight pair of denims he remembered from the movies. It had been impossible not to notice the way they clung to her shapely legs then, and it was impossible to not notice now. Still, he was rather partial to the wild mane and pajamas from this morning.

"Can I help you cook?"

"If you like," Draco said.

She pushed her sleeves up and took the pot to fill at the sink. Draco had cheated a bit, using magic to prep the meatballs before she arrived, but he had not been lying when he said he liked cooking. It reminded him of Potions, which was easily his best class at Hogwarts, and not just because of Snape's preference for the Slytherin students. Something about the methodic process of brewing potions, like cooking, was soothing and purposeful to Draco, and he still regularly concocted necessary ones for himself here in his muggle kitchen.

He made the sauce while she stirred the pasta. He didn't feel the same competitiveness that was between them in class, when they were both striving to be the best. In fact, they worked rather well alongside each other.

He remembered having different partners in Potions and how much he loathed pairing up. They were always in his way or behind in the steps. Granger however made it feel effortless despite still clearly being a perfectionist and fanatical about following the directions. She gave him a look of utter disbelief when he'd suggested adding salt to the pasta water when the recipe didn't call for it.

Between the two of them, dinner was ready in no time, and it smelled delicious.

Draco carried the food to the dining room where he had set the table for two. A candelabra sat in the middle of the table. He looked at the unlit candles and instabtly the flames popped to life.

"How did you do that?" Granger asked.

Draco froze. What the bloody hell had he been thinking.

"Just an old parlor trick," he said, hoping that would satisfy. Knowing Granger, it would not.

"Oh. Well maybe you'll teach me," she said casually.

He met her eyes, and where he expected to see suspicion, he read something else; enticement.

A warm, excited sort of feeling swept over him. It would be embarrasing to admit how much he liked that he had impressed her.

Pulling out her chair, Draco sat her down and filled her plate with spaghetti. He had several bottles of elf-made wine on reserve and selected one before she had arrived. He offered it to her, unsure of her drink preferences, but she nodded so he filled her glass. She thanked him and waited till he was seated to begin eating.

"This is really nice," she said.

"It is," Draco agreed.

He had never realized how much he missed company. Since about the summer before his sixth year, he had been isolating himself from his friends. He had also began distancing himself from Pansy, the only serious girlfriend he'd ever had. Her company however, was nothing like Granger's. It was smothering, and needy, whereas Granger's presence seemed to fill up something he hadn't realized was so empty.

"I have a little confession to make," she said abruptly.

Draco's chewing ceased, and he waited for her to continue. Was this it?

"When you asked what I wanted to do, if I could do anything, I drew a blank. I know I said I wanted to cook and rent movie, which I did want to do, but honestly the only thing I could think of, all I actually wanted was to spend the day with a friend."

"That's what you wanted, if you could spend your day doing anything?"

"Yes."

"I see, and is that what you got?"

"Yes, even more than that actually. I'm happy my day was spent with you."

"So am I," he said.

She smiled and went back to her food.

"So," she said, plunging her fork into a meatball, "do you know any other tricks?"

"A few," Draco said.

"I had a feeling you did."

Her smile was sly and contagious. She looked devilishly good in the candlelight.

He had doubted before what Granger's reasoning for giving him her time was, but he could feel it now, something tangible in the air. The same something he had been in denial about himself. Attraction, and a mutual on at that.

It took a lot of self control to not stare at her, but whenever he did glance, she seemed to be looking back at him. It made him hot around the neck, giving him the urge to strip off his shirt for relief, and hers, too. He suppressed the thought.

They finished eating, and Draco took her to the the living room where he had arranged the television and video player that he'd conjured up while she was gone.

"I think I'm too full for cake just yet," she said.

"As am I," he agreed.

'I did bring something from home, however," she said, reaching into her bag.

She pulled out a red and white striped box, the Berti Botts he'd given her.

"Oh no," he said.

"Oh yes."

"I better get something to wash them down with then. One of us is bound to get a bogey flavor."

"I hope it's you," she said.

In the kitchen a memory popped into Draco's mind, one of sitting at the Three Broomsticks. Granger had been sitting by herself at a table across from him. She was lost in a book, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around her. Two empty mugs sat before her. A third was in her hand. She sipped from it, leaving a bit of foam on her upper lip that she carelessly licked away.

He fixed up two Butterbeers and returned to the living room.

"I think you'll like this," he said, passing her a mug.

She looked at it and him curiously.

"What is it?"

"Delicious."

"Oh, well that explains it. Cheers then."

She took a sip, a bit of foam clinging to her upper lip.

"Mmmmmm."

"You like it then," Draco said, taking a sip from his own.

"I've had this before!"

Draco struggled to not spit out his drink, or look horrified. He did sputter a bit though, and used his fingers to wipe the corner of his mouth.

'Have you?"

She looked almost as shocked at the revelation as he was, though she quickly tried to hide it.

"Mmhmm," was all she said, taking another quick sip.

Paranoia crept in and Draco wondered if she had been remembering other things as well. It would be hard to tell with her not admitting to having memory loss in the first place.

"Should we start the movie?" she said, changing the subject.

"Good idea," he said.

He was happy she volunteered to ready it, as he had no idea how. The screen came to life and she sat back down, slipping her shoes off. Draco was never not surprised when she appeared comfortable around him. He noticed her eyes flicker over to the dark fire place.

"Are you chilled?"

"Not really, this drink warmed me up quite but a bit. I do love a fire though."

Draco got up and walked over to the fireplace. He had never lit it manually before. Hoping she was ready for her next parlor trick, he made sure to keep his wand concealed when he cast.

Flames shot up from the logs which began crackling and popping.

"Impressive," Granger said, "do you plan on teaching me that one, too?

"Perhaps," Draco said teasingly. "Are you a good student?"

"I believe so."

He resumed his spot on the sofa next to her. She tore open the top of the Berti Botts.

"After you," she said, shaking them at him.

"Ladies first."

She looked as if she may argue, so for good measure, he added "if you're brave enough."

That did it. She shook a few into her hand and examined them, finally selecting a pale yellow one. She glanced at him, so he nodded in encouragement. She popped it into her mouth.

"Hmm, popcorn. Different, but not disgusting. Your turn."

Draco, who had some experience with the beans, selected a red one from her palm, knowing it could go one of many ways and the odds weren't necessarily in his favor.

"If you're brave enough," she mimicked unnecessarily.

Draco put it in his mouth.

"Cinnamon," he smirked. "One of my favorites."

"How lucky," she said, shaking more into her palm. "Together then?"

She held her hand out to him. He picked another red one, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. She, like a true amateur, selected a white one, probably assuming it to be something safe like marshmallow, but Draco new better.

They ate them at the same time. Her chewing slowed, and she wrinkled her nose, swallowing hard. Draco tried to keep his expression composed but he had definitely not picked cherry. A metallic flavor coated his tongue.

"Soap," she said, shaking her head a bit. "What was yours?"

"Cherry," he bluffed.

"You liar, I saw your eye twitch."

"Prove it," he said.

They hardly paid attention to the movie, instead laughing and choosing beans for the other to try. She nearly fell off the sofa laughing when he sputtered and coughed on a pepper flavored one. They had a second then third Butterbeer.

She had her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, reminding Draco of a cat, though one far more attractive than that orange thing back at her place.

He noticed she had a habit of singling out a lone curl when she was concentrating on something, repeatedly pulling it taught then letting go allowing it to spring back into place.

The fire light illuminated her profile, silhouetting her against the flames. He glanced over at her more than he should. It was strange, seeing her curled up on his sofa that had once belonged to his grandparents on his father's side. It was an image he couldn't have conjured up in his wildest dreams even a month ago. He tried not to think about what his grandfather would say if he could see what Draco was seeing.

Though he tried, it wasn't possible to completely ignore the thought gnawing at the back of his mind. She shouldn't be here. Not just here, in this muggle town where she didn't belong, but here with him, just as he shouldn't be here with her. Hera might be here with him voluntarily, but Hermione Granger was not.

It felt wrong. He knew he didn't deserve it, to enjoy her company, but his discipline had all but disappeared and after years of loneliness and fear, he desperately wanted to indulge in this feeling of comfort and just lose himself within it for a while. There was no denying how much happier he felt when she was around.

He had not realized he'd been staring until she met his eyes.

"It's over," she said.

"What?"

"The movie."

He looked at the screen, which had went black. Rows of names and paragraphs cascaded down it.

"Well what did you think?" Draco asked.

"Funny, though I think that pair would have been better off staying friends. They had nothing in common, romantically. She would have been better off with that neighbor she was always quarreling with. At least they could match wits."

"Agreed," Draco said, realizing he couldn't recall any details of the film what so ever.

She stretched out her arms and sat up a little straighter. One by one she slipped on each shoe.

"I should probably be getting home before it's late, seeing as I've got work in the morning."

"Of course. Though you must have a slice of cake first."

"I nearly forgot. Just a small one though, and I might pass on the icecream for another time, I'm already quite sugared up."

"Not a bad idea. Be right back then."

Draco returned with a plate in each hand.

She thanked him as he passed her one. Ignoring her fork at first, she plunged a finger into the frosting, then into her mouth.

"Oh that's good," she said.

"I'm happy you like it," he said, and took a bite of his own.

It was rather good, he had to admit. Not bad for his first go at baking. Now he almost resented giving all the credit to the bakery.

"Have you enjoyed the day?" Draco asked.

"Mmhmm, it's been a great day."

"Good."

With the television screen now off, the fireplace was the only light source in the room. It shined off the necklace resting between her collarbones, it glinted off her fork as she pulled it clean from between her lips, it reflected in her eyes when she looked at him.

"You've got frosting on you," she said.

She reached over with her thumb, wiped it off the corner of his mouth, and licked her finger clean.

Draco felt for a moment like he wouldn't be able to move if he tried. Then she laughed.

"Hang on, I still didn't get it all," she said, putting her plate down on the table.

Her hand approached a second time and lightly brushed the corner of his mouth, but this time he caught her by the wrist before she could pull away.

His actions felt dreamlike, it was subcouncious and not planned out. He slid his hand up over hers, carefully isolating one finger. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed it's soft pad.

Automatically, he looked back up to meet her eyes. They were wide with surprise, but she did not pull away. He moved on to the next finger, then another, and on to the last. He was almost unaware of pulling her closer and didn't realize he was holding his own breath until he felt hers. He let his eyes close as the tip of his nose brushed her cheek, guiding him in the right direction.

It was she who closed whatever fraction of distance remained, yet it was Draco who latched on, feeling all sense of reality fade away yet at the same time feeling invigoratingly alive as her soft lips slid against his. She tasted like sugar with a hint of honey. He felt her free hand on his neck, her thumb tracing over the curve of his Adam's apple. He felt her weight shift as she moved closer to him. He felt a tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine and launched all the way up to his ears. Then he felt her pull away.

He opened his eyes. She was still close to him. Her eyes transfixed on his mouth. Half of him wanted to wrap his hand in her hair and feel her again, the other half wanted to retreat somewhere alone, far far away. He compromised by not moving at all.

Luckily, she acted first.

"Thank you for the cake," she said quietly, as if she didn't want someone else to hear.

"Thank you," he said, having no idea what the words meant.

She stood up and walked into the kitchen. It took a moment before he was able to follow her.

She had gathered her groceries from the fridge.

"Don't forget the flowers," he said.

She smiled, and picked them up off the table.

"I'll return the vase," she said.

"It's yours."

The drive to her house was almost more silent than the return trip to his own.

He had carried her things to the door, and she had thanked him for the day, piece by piece, before disappearing inside.

Once he was home again, Draco sat in the parked vehicle for a long time before finally going back in. The house felt different somehow. _He_ felt different somehow. Buzzing, there was only one thing that felt right to do.

He walked into the bath and ran some shower water, stripping off his clothes as steam filled the room.

He had no idea how long he was in there, but the water had gone completely cold. He was certain only of one thing by time he got out, that of all the the things he had ever said or done to Granger in all his years of knowing her, this was absolutely without a doubt the cruelest.

 **A/N** \- **Hey readers! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This was a rather lengthy for me, and I don't do very well with deadlines but I set one for myself and I made! With that being said, apologies for any minor errors I overlooked. Most importantly, I'd like to wish our starlet, Hermione Granger, a very happy birthday today and in this chapter. Sometimes things line up nicely. Thanks for reading, more to come!**


	12. chapter 12

**_-Hera's POV-_**

Three weeks isn't all that long when measured up against the span of years, however when you only have seven months worth of memories, it stacks up fairly well, at least that's how Hera was going to rationalize it.

Things seemed to be moving fast between Draco and herself. Hera couldn't help but wonder if she'd had any romantic relationships in the past, and if so, what sort of pace they had moved at.

Less than three weeks ago, he was a stranger, someone who's existence she wasn't even aware of. Now she was consumed by thoughts of him, and _kissing_ him. That had been a surreal experience. Was that her first kiss, or her hundredth? Had she kissed anyone before, or had she kissed loads of someones before? Somehow, she felt without a doubt it was her best kiss.

Perhaps it was the sugar, or the glass of wine at dinner, or the sheer adrenaline from their encounter, but Hera was positively buzzing when she got home that evening. She tried to wind down by soaking in a hot bath, relieving herself in more ways than one, but everytime she thought about Draco her pulse quickened and chest flushed all over again.

She slept well that night.

Then two days passed, and she had not heard from him.

The elation she had felt rapidly fizzled into doubt and insecurity, and then shame for being so needy that going only two days without him could reduce her to such a state. Was she desperately clinging to him because she had nobody else? No, that wasn't it. The pull she felt toward him was just so real in felt nearly tangible, which only intensified the sting of his short absence.

After sharing such a lovely Sunday together, she had expected him to pop into the library, to knock on her front door, or even just pop up where ever she happened to be like he had a knack for doing, but he hadn't.

Her boss did, however.

Upon returning to work Monday morning, Hera telephoned her boss, Noreen Catterby, to let her know about Frances, Ms. Catterby informed Hera that she would be making a special trip in to sort things out.

Fearing she was going to be in trouble for her actions, Hera spent the whole morning before her arrival meticulously arranging a new display on historical fiction to distract herself.

Ms. Catterby arrived promptly at noon to the library, just as she said she would. She was a very stern looking woman, but she greeted Hera with a small smile, alleviating some of her tension.

"Ms. Gilmore," she began, "It's good to see you. Apologies for my extended absence."

"How is your sister?" Hera asked, taking Ms. Catterby's long, black travelling jacket and draping it on the coat stand.

"Stable, but weak. She is very dependent on my assistance. That is in part why I wanted to meet with you today. That, and the ordeal with Frances."

Hera dug her fingernails into her palm nervously as she sat down at the table across from her boss, quietly waiting for her to continue.

"You made a good decision, terminating him as you did. It demonstrated good leadership. Frances was an inherited problem, employed here before I ever took over at this branch. You took the initiative and did what I should have in the first place."

Hera exhaled, feeling some of the rigidness in her bones melt away. She sat up a little straighter now, confident that at least she wasn't going to be fired.

"So," Ms. Catterby went on, "with that being said, I have a question. Are you happy here?"

Caught slightly off guard, Hera took a second longer than needed before answering.

"Oh! Yes, I love working here! I love caring for the books and recommending volumes to patrons in need of something specific. I enjoy creating the displays. I like having a routine, and I get to meet lots of people."

Once again her thoughts flickered to Draco and she tried to ignore the falling sensation in her stomach.

"Well I'm happy to hear it, because seeing as I am going to be gone a while longer, I would rest easier knowing that you are handling things here as they need to be handled. I would like to offer to you officially the position of branch manager."

"You're job?" Hera asked.

"My job, yes. You see, I'm getting older and plan to retire soon anyway, but before doing so I would need to find a suitable replacement."

"And you think _I_ _'m_ a suitable replacement?" Hera asked, the insecurities of her memory loss festering within her.

"Indeed I do. You've done well supervising during my time away. You are responsible, and your passion for the books! Well, they do seem to be your calling. I admire your work ethic as well, but what I am most impressed with is something else. You, Ms. Gilmore, have overcome very much in a short amount of time. Not only have you adapted despite your condition, you are thriving if I may say so."

Feeling the warmth in her cheeks, Hera couldn't help but beam. Her sentiment, echoing Ms. Ellerbee's from the previous week, meant more to Hera than she could express with words. She didn't have many people in her life, and even fewer that knew about her condition. To have some reassurance was more than comforting; it was liberating.

"Now I know your condition will continue to come with obstacles, but I have complete confidence you will continue to overcome them."

"Thank you for saying so," Hera said.

Ms. Catterby smiled another small but warm smile, then continued.

"So, if you accept-"

"I do!" Hera said, immediately embarrassed by her eagerness.

"Then consider this a promotion. I have made arrangements so that I'm afforded time for the the next two days, allowing the two of us to cover some training. It doesn't sound like much time, but you are a fast learner."

Hera nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Catterby. I'll be sure to live up to your expectations of me."

"It's more likely that you will exceed them."

Hera tried not to let her elation be spoiled by nagging worries about Draco, but she couldn't help wishing she could tell him her good news. As happy as she was, she was equally as lonely. Perhaps she needed to not worry about romance, if what she and Draco had could even be called such. Maybe what she really needed was to focus on her work. She could even try to make some actual friends.

 ** _-Draco's POV-_**

Draco woke Saturday morning much later than he intended. The clock told him it was near 11. He was parched, and his neck ached when he sat upright as if he'd slept on it funny. Pressing his palms into his eyes he willed his head to stop throbbing and now regretted polishing off that bottle of firewhiskey in the wee hours of the night.

He had gone almost the whole week without contacting Granger which made him feel unbearably guilty. Being around her however also made him feel unbearably guilty, so there really was no winning.

It had been the longest week, too. He had hardly stepped outside and hadn't spoken to anyone but himself. The worst part was the difficulty sleeping at night. One thing he'd learned after last night at least was that neither the hangovers nor their cure were worth it, so he planned to avoid the liquor cabinet for a while.

In his endless stretch of free time, Draco had been tossing around different scenarios in his head of how this could all play out. He had gone back and forth about leaving. Leaving this house, this town, the country even. He fretted over which would actually do the most damage to Granger; Draco Mallory disappearing from her life or one day realizing Draco Malfoy had inserted himself into her life.

It may be kinder to erase himself from her memories all together, avoid the library and keep an eye on her from afar. He was too afraid however of what damage attempting to erase memories from already fragile mind may cause.

He could be reckless and just tell her to truth. He could tell her who he was, who _she_ was. He could tell her how, to the best of his knowledge, she had ended up this way, and try to make things right, make them they way they were before, as if anything could actually be the way it was before.

"Or," a smaller, more dangerous voice in his head chimed in "you could leave things as they are. She makes you feel happy, and you seem to make her happy. You've both left your old lives behind anyway. Start a new one together."

Draco tried to ignore the allure of this option. His old way of life was almost non existant, and there was no going back to it. Deep down he knew it was for the better, too. He was ashamed of his past in many ways. That Draco felt like a stranger to him. Perhaps Draco Mallory and Hera Gilmore could be their future.

"A future built on lies," a more rational voice added.

Draco audibly groaned, and considered giving the firewhiskey another go.

Why must he be burdened with the truth? Was this his punishment for a lifetime of poor decisions? Knowing who she really was, knowing she was still alive when no one else did. Though he couldn't possibly be the only one who knew. Potter had to know, obviously. Draco knew with certainty this was his doing. Now where Potter was, if he planned on ever coming back for her, or if he was even still alive, Draco was uncertain of.

After washing his face, he downed the last of the Hangover Be Gone potion he had brewed at the beginning of the week. It reminded him of Theodore Nott, who had told him about the potion in their sixth year. Theo had been reluctant to admit it was from a gag potions book he had bought from the Weasley twins' shop in Diagon Alley, but swore it worked like a charm. He also failed to mention the vile taste and side effects, which included a couple hours of hiccuping various colored bubbles.

He would have to wait for the bubbles to subside before he could leave the house, but Draco had made up his mind. He was going to see Granger, and the rest he would figure out later.

That afternoon he decided to walk to Granger's house rather than drive. It was an unusually warm Autumn Day, and their probably wouldn't be too many of them left as October neared. Plus he needed more time to think about what he was going to say to her, how he planned to explain his incredibly rude disappearance for the past several days . Another lie would have to do, he supposed.

Cutting through the park, he noticed the nice weather brought everyone out. Children played around the swing set, an elderly man sat alone on the bench watching the leaves dancing in the wind. Couples stretched out on a blankets in the grass sharing lunch, and a girl with thick brown curls stood at the water's edge feeding ducks.

Draco stopped, watching as Granger scattered seeds for the ducks that were rallied around her. They quacked and waddled, and she smiled to herself. Draco smiled, too.

She didn't notice him approach, too busy with the dozen or so ducks surrounding her. The ducks certainly noticed, however. One by one they left her side to encircle Draco. She looked up to see where they were going and spotted him. Her expression changed in an instant. He knew she was upset with him.

"Hello," he said over the volume of quacking.

"Hi," she replied shortly.

"I don't have anything to offer you," he addressed the ducks now, which were circling him and chanting in near perfect unison.

"Here," she said, coming closer to drop a pile of seeds into his palm. "Toss them away from you."

He did as she said and the ducks went waddling after them.

"People often give them breadcrumbs not knowing how bad it really is for their digestive systems," she said matter of factly, "but they much prefer seeds."

"I'll remember that," Draco assured her.

Silence fell between them in the absence of quacking. He knew it was up to him now.

"I've just got back into town," he lied.

"Have you?" she asked in a tone that suggested he was a bad liar.

"Yes, I had to fly out for business. It was an unexpected trip."

"I see."

"I was actually just on my way to your place."

"I wouldn't have been there," she said flatly without looking up.

"Right, I suppose I got lucky catching you here."

She didn't respond, and instead threw another pocketful or seeds to the returning ducks.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Draco asked in hopes to put distance between themselves and the ducks before the seed supply was depleted.

"I suppose," she said brushing her hands clean.

They walked side by side for several minutes before either of them spoke again. Draco stole a glance as they went. She was chewing on her bottom lip. _Her lips_ , he remembered with a rush in his stomach. Not wanting to get carried away in the memory of their kiss, Draco pushed forward.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something," he said, noticing the palms of his hands perspiring.

"Funny," she said, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead, "I've been wanting to talk to you, too.

This was it, Draco thought, she had come to her senses, her instincts from deep down, and she was going to tell him they would no longer see each other. Perhaps it was for the best, then it would be her decision, thus letting him off the hook of figuring out what to do. Still, this made him feel no better. If anything it made him feel worse.

"Should we go for a cuppa then?" he suggested.

"That's probably a good idea."

The walk to the café was a a tense one. Draco could feel his nerves multiplying with each step. Willing himself to relax, he kept reminding himself this was probably for the best. He should have never stuck himself in this perdiciment. He was just ready to hear her speak, because her silence was deafening.

They got a table in the corner of the crowded room. It wasnt until after the waitress brought their drinks that either of them began talking.

"I've been thinking a lot this past week," Granger began, "and I've decided we can't go on like this."

Draco's stomach instantly sank, but he kept his face impassible as she continued.

"I realized with the way things are progressing between us that I've made a rather poor choice."

Still Draco remained quiet, waiting for it to be over.

"I've not been honest with you, and I should have never let things go as far as they did," she paused, inhaling deeply. "The truth is, I'm not Hera Gilmore."

Draco didn't have to feign a look of surprise, he was genuinely taken aback by the abruptness of her confession.

"I don't know who I am," she bit her lip nervously, "but I'm not her. You see, it's difficult to explain. The fact is I've suffered from- well, from memory loss. The doctors couldn't determine what caused it and they don't know if it's reversible. But seven months ago I was found in the park with no recollection of who I was or how I'd come to be there."

She paused, waiting for some sort of reaction no doubt, but Draco was at an actual loss for words. Knowing her truth beforehand did nothing at all to prepare him for hearing it from her.

"There, er," she continued with a rattle now present in her voice, "there were no reports of a missing person fitting my description, and no one ever came looking for me. So here I am."

Tears were now filling up the brim of her chocolate colored eyes.

"Hera," Draco began, but she winced at the false name and tears began flowing silently down her cheeks.

"I'm s-sorry, I should have told you sooner. It's just- it's difficult to find the right way to explain it. I never meant to lie, honestly I didn't."

"Hera-"

"I just got carried away, but I shouldn't have let it go this far without telling you-"

" _Hera,"_ Draco reached across the table and took her hand which was trembling slightly, "I'm sorry you're having to go through this. I can't imagine how difficult it is for you."

She stared at him, her eyebrows knitted together with worry.

"I wasn't sure if I was going to tell you at all," she admitted. "I thought it would be easier to just end things, but I had to be honest. It's too hard to keep it a secret and I just couldn't bare lying to you any longer, even if it meant you would be angry with me"

The waves of guilt washed over Draco, as did the ache of seeing her so upset.

"I'm not angry with you," he assured her.

"You're not?"

"No, I just wish you weren't hurting."

"I'll be fine, really. I just- I really did enjoy our time together. I'm sorry this is how it ended."

She scooted her chair back, dabbing her wet cheeks with her sleeve before standing up.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked.

"I was just- leaving. I didn't have anything left to say."

"I had something I wanted to talk to you about, remember?"

"Oh," she said with a sniff, "right. I just didn't think you would have anything left to say to me after- Well, after what I told you."

"Why is that?"

"Well I thought, I mean I assumed you were planning on telling me we wouldn't be seeing each other anymore, and since I already said that there seemed to be nothing left."

"Why would you think I was coming to end things?"

"Well, you hadn't been around since we, well since we last spent the day together. I assumed you had decided you weren't interested, or perhaps I had done something, or-"

She gave up trying to finish her explanation and sat back down, looking defeated.

"First of all," Draco said, "you're going to have to accept that you're not always right, because I wasn't coming to end things."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You weren't?"

"No, in fact, I was trying to figure out the right way to ask you if we could make things more official."

"What?"

Draco smiled, a nervous smile, one that was completely unsure if he was doing to right thing but was excited to do it none the less.

"I was hoping to be able to refer to us a couple. Exclusive, you know."

She did not know, apparantly, by the look of utter shock on her face.

"I wanted to ask if you would allow me to be your boyfriend, Hera."

"But after all that-"

"Yes?"

"You still want to-"

"Yes."

"Oh," she said, looking more perplexed than before.

"Only if that's what you want, of course," he added.

She looked back up at him.

"You really want me to be your girlfriend?"

He reached out his hand, and though it took a second she took it. He pulled her around to his side of the table and into the empty seat next to him. Gently, he reached up and brushed away the wet streak on her cheek with his thumb.

"I would like that very much," he said quietly, and leaned in to brush his lips lightly against hers.

She was still at first, but responded with a tenderness that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, intensified as she rested her palm against his chest. His hands found a stray lock of hair to hold onto. He could taste the saltiness from her tears.

When they finally ceased, her eyes fluttered open and he thought he saw a glimmer of relief in them. He felt some of the weight lifted from his own shoulders as well. This wasn't how he had expected the day to go, but here he was. Here _they_ were.

The days of predictability were long behind him, and though he had no idea what tomorrow would bring, he wanted to savor this feeling, this moment, but from experience he knew trying to hold onto the good was like trying to hold water in your hands.

Still, he wasn't going to do his best to not let it slip through his fingers.

 **A/N: Hey readers! Please excuse me absence, I spent October working on another project then unwillingly slid right into the holiday season. ANYWAY, instead of easing back into the swing of things I cannonballed right into this chapter. Things are definitely changing for Hera, but are they changing for the better? Stay tuned!**


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